Having stayed over three months in the one city, discounting the lightning visit to Moscow, I’ve grown accustomed to certain activities, people, and a way of life that is different to my old one in NZ. When I leave, I’ll miss some of this, and some I’ll be happy to be rid of.
Naturally, I’ll miss the friends I’ve made here. There’s Team America and the Germans, most of whom (both groups) are returning to their respective countries soon. There are my classmates, of whom I’m the only one going home. They’re wondering why; I’ve tried explaining that the money and time are running out and I have to go. I was only going to be here for one semester (or 15 weeks, whichever came first). As the 15 weeks expired on 12 December, I’d better be going. My teachers are sort of friends – Dmitri and Tatyana are both nice, happy people, and it’s a pity I couldn’t spend a bit of time with them outside of school. But I suppose they have to set boundaries, or they’ll get nothing done. Galina and Vladimir (who calls me “Student”) I’ll certainly miss. Both wonderful people, as are my neighbours: I’ve spent many hours, most broken into 10-15 minute segments, chatting to them. Being polite and a good neighbour helps in Russia – they value good manners.
Then there’s that cooked breakfast that arrives in the morning. I’ve certainly got used to that routine and it’ll come as a rude shock to discover I’ve got to cook my own breakfast again. And going to KGU for three hours every day is routine that I’ll miss. On the other hand, I won’t miss climbing those stairs, or cramming into the lifts. And I won’t miss the toilets, which doubled as smoking rooms. Some days the smoke was so dense it was difficult to see the walls.
I will miss all the nodding acquaintances, as they a regular faces. The guy in Книжный Дом (Book House), the laundry, the security guards at KGU; they’re all people I nodded or said hello to. They nodded and said hello back. I think I’ll miss the Mickey Dee’s on Baumana, but I’m not sure. I won’t be missing going there, and logging on for 30 minute sessions, and having variable access speed because it’s packed or somebody is downloading huge files or playing internet games. And this laptop, for all its virtues, weighs a ton! Between toting it back and forth, a couple of brief attacks (two days each) of the trots/food poisoning and the stairs at KGU, I’ve lost about 5kg since I got here. But this is yet to be confirmed by my regular scales. I know the scales at the laundrette said I was lighter by about 3-4kg, so for the first time I a long while I weigh less than 90kg. Yea me!
I won’t miss the footpaths of Kazan. They would have to be the worst I met anywhere. They exist, but half the time they are seriously pot-holed, puddle after rain and then covered in slick mud. You have to be a mountaineer to navigate some of them. Somebody could make a sizeable fortune offering ankle insurance too – you can easily twist an ankle in the crap surfaces.
I also won’t miss the semi-permanent state of confusion that descends on me the moment I start talking with Russians. It’s not that they’re confusing; it’s just having to cope with a language I’ve only partly mastered. And I will not sorry to the last of Russian toilets as a collective group (apart from the one in Galina’s apartment). Apart from the haphazard cleaning regime, there tends to be a lack of toilet paper in the stalls. This has to be allowed for before you suddenly find that the smallest usable piece of paper in your wallet is NOT a 10RR note but something much more valuable.
I’m not sure if I’ll miss winter – it never really arrived. Only today has the temperature been below 0°C by more than one or two degrees. I was talking to my Muscovite friend and realised that my bare hand had frozen. I also had very cold ears. I considered buying an ushanka (those lovely sheepskin hats Russian men wear in winter with the Captain Dog-ears flaps, but I don’t think it would be practical in Aukalofa – it’s too warm) for a few minutes.
But I miss my NZ friends and family and it’s time to get back and pay off this horrendous credit card bill. I’m dreading seeing that.
Next post: hopefully some pictures, or a commentary on the flight back.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Packing Up
I’m down to the final week in Kazan and now face the somewhat difficult task of packing everything I’ve bought, as well as everything I’ve brought with me, into the suitcase. I have this horrible feeling it is going to be a tight fit. I could well have to post back the three models I’ve bought. Certainly I’d be a lot less worried about crushing them. But I suspect I won’t.
I have this feeling that I’m going to have to leave one or two things behind. The first casualty will be a couple of pairs of old socks. I came here with both summer and winter weight socks. The laundrette managed to lose one sock. (I attach no blame to the, socks are a migratory species of clothing and occasionally get lost when separated from the flock. Either that, or there is an, as yet, undiscovered species that preys on socks.) One of my old pairs of winter weight socks suffered terminal drying, and shrivelled at the point where it was worn threadbare. I think these two pairs are for the rubbish bin.
What next? I will have to tightly roll and carefully fold all the clothing. I’m sure to gain an extra 500ml of space. Of course, on the return leg I’ll be wearing slightly more clothes (and wishing wasn’t) than on the way here. That’s one sweatshirt, a heavy pair of socks, and heavy trousers. Oh yes, a long-sleeved shirt and the “winter” boots. I wore a pair of very comfortable walking shoes on the way over, but they were cheap. The laces snapped (both are now knotted together) and a D-ring one lace threads through has broken. Quite annoying, as they really are comfortable. Lesson: don’t expect to get full wear out of shoes bought at Nº1 Shoe Warehouse.
Right, I’ve now freed up enough space to stuff in the soft and compressible gifts I bought. If I put the books and the laptop in its bag and carry it separately, I might have enough room for the things I can’t get in the suitcase, into my rucksack. This may entail a spot of repacking at Moscow-Sheremetyevo airport. These days, the airlines are loath to allow you to take bottles of booze on as hand luggage. Aeroflot in particular, because Russia is involved in its on “war on terror”, is very strict on these rules. I’ve had my shoes scanned for explosives only in Moscow. There are metal detectors at all the stadia and big theatres. They really are concerned about this. (TatNeft Arena, home of Ak Bars hockey team, has an interesting set of “not allowed” on the wall – first time I’ve seen knives and handguns listed. But then, I’ve not been to a game in the redneck belt.)
Because I’m going to spending a few hours, like 12, in Moscow before the plane flies out, I’ll be doing a bit of sight-seeing. I don’t expect to see any snow there, Moscow’s had the warmest early December on record and only now, in mid-December are the temperatures staying below 0°C during the day. We’ve had the same problem in Kazan; it’s probably going to be a brown Christmas. Provided I don’t go silly with the money, and there’s no large state functions, I’ll probably do a quick tour of the Moscow Kremlin. Apparently there are a few churches worth seeing. I know how to find it. The bags, or two of them, will be stuck in left luggage at Cavyolovskaya railway station (Савёловская Вокзал). I’ll use that one as it’s the terminal for the express out to Sheremetyevo airport.
There will be a furious bout of repacking at the airport, I suppose, as I try and arrange things the way I want them and still comply with all the airline rules and regulations. Damn this flying cattle class! I just know I’ll have to pay excess baggage.
Next Post: What I’ll Miss (or Not).
I have this feeling that I’m going to have to leave one or two things behind. The first casualty will be a couple of pairs of old socks. I came here with both summer and winter weight socks. The laundrette managed to lose one sock. (I attach no blame to the, socks are a migratory species of clothing and occasionally get lost when separated from the flock. Either that, or there is an, as yet, undiscovered species that preys on socks.) One of my old pairs of winter weight socks suffered terminal drying, and shrivelled at the point where it was worn threadbare. I think these two pairs are for the rubbish bin.
What next? I will have to tightly roll and carefully fold all the clothing. I’m sure to gain an extra 500ml of space. Of course, on the return leg I’ll be wearing slightly more clothes (and wishing wasn’t) than on the way here. That’s one sweatshirt, a heavy pair of socks, and heavy trousers. Oh yes, a long-sleeved shirt and the “winter” boots. I wore a pair of very comfortable walking shoes on the way over, but they were cheap. The laces snapped (both are now knotted together) and a D-ring one lace threads through has broken. Quite annoying, as they really are comfortable. Lesson: don’t expect to get full wear out of shoes bought at Nº1 Shoe Warehouse.
Right, I’ve now freed up enough space to stuff in the soft and compressible gifts I bought. If I put the books and the laptop in its bag and carry it separately, I might have enough room for the things I can’t get in the suitcase, into my rucksack. This may entail a spot of repacking at Moscow-Sheremetyevo airport. These days, the airlines are loath to allow you to take bottles of booze on as hand luggage. Aeroflot in particular, because Russia is involved in its on “war on terror”, is very strict on these rules. I’ve had my shoes scanned for explosives only in Moscow. There are metal detectors at all the stadia and big theatres. They really are concerned about this. (TatNeft Arena, home of Ak Bars hockey team, has an interesting set of “not allowed” on the wall – first time I’ve seen knives and handguns listed. But then, I’ve not been to a game in the redneck belt.)
Because I’m going to spending a few hours, like 12, in Moscow before the plane flies out, I’ll be doing a bit of sight-seeing. I don’t expect to see any snow there, Moscow’s had the warmest early December on record and only now, in mid-December are the temperatures staying below 0°C during the day. We’ve had the same problem in Kazan; it’s probably going to be a brown Christmas. Provided I don’t go silly with the money, and there’s no large state functions, I’ll probably do a quick tour of the Moscow Kremlin. Apparently there are a few churches worth seeing. I know how to find it. The bags, or two of them, will be stuck in left luggage at Cavyolovskaya railway station (Савёловская Вокзал). I’ll use that one as it’s the terminal for the express out to Sheremetyevo airport.
There will be a furious bout of repacking at the airport, I suppose, as I try and arrange things the way I want them and still comply with all the airline rules and regulations. Damn this flying cattle class! I just know I’ll have to pay excess baggage.
Next Post: What I’ll Miss (or Not).
Monday, December 8, 2008
What I Would Have Done Differently
When you go on a long trip, and that essentially is what this has been, you can look back with 20:20 hindsight and declare that some things could have been done better, or at least differently. I’m in that position, nearing the end of my stay in Kazan and Russia and have decided to catalogue the list of mistakes I wish to correct, or replay so that I can get a better outcome.
The first, and most obvious, is that I would have done this sooner! And that includes moving to Aukalofa, starting and finishing the B.A. at least two years earlier, etc. For a start, I would have had more money and had a happier girlfriend. I would also have been two years younger, which may have helped with acquiring a new language. Who am I kidding; Russian is acknowledged as being one of the harder Indo-European languages to learn. Compared to Russian, French, Italian or Spanish are a doddle.
Secondly, I would have brought cash instead of traveller’s cheques. The commission charged on changing traveller’s cheques into local currency is high – it can reach 10%, even when you find a bank that is happy to cash them. Cash may be easier to steal, but it attracts a much lower exchange commission.
Thirdly, there was a travel scholarship I didn’t know existed until AFTER applications for it closed. Even $1000 would have been useful, assuming I’d got it. If ever you are in the position of being a student planning foreign study, look at ALL the possible sources of money that exist, especially the travel ones. The useful information is often hidden in obscure corners of the university campus, far from enquiring wallets and minds.
Fourthly, I would have checked that power supply for the laptop before I packed it. Murphy’s Law can strike at the worst possible moment, and the old adage of “measure twice, cut once” can be applied to more than just carpentry. Similarly, and fifth, wandering around Shanghai with the cables for the digital camera was asking to lose them, considering I was operating on adrenaline as opposed to sleep. I think I should have been ruder to the Chinese, too.
Sixthly, I should really have read up on the weather here before packing. The rain isn’t hard; it would qualify as “showers” or “light rain” in New Zealand. The heavy overcoat would have stayed at home. This would have lightened the suitcase by about 2-3 kilos, plus given me a bit more room. I also would have brought more long sleeved shirts, instead of just the five I did. I have to wear summer shirts part of the time. This hasn’t been a problem only because the winter has been surprisingly mild. This is the second warmest December on record, and they’re on track to have a brown Christmas.
Seventhly, I would have done a lot more language practice before I left. Spending several days waiting for my ears to adjust to Russian was not fun or productive. I thought I had a handle on the language before I arrived, but I was more than a little bit wrong. Large amounts of listening practice should have been done before I left.
I’m certain I chose the right city to learn. Moscow and Saint Petersburg, lovely though they may be, are BIG. Moscow is also the most expensive city in the world. Here I knew nobody, so was basically thrown in the deep end. This was both good and bad, for the usual reasons of not knowing anybody. It is cheaper than Moscow, but it meant that I had to find, or be found by, people with whom to practise my Russian. I know somebody in Moscow, a native, who would’ve been happy to help, but he also wants to practise his English, and that would probably mean my Russian wouldn’t have been spoken at all. Plus, in a smaller city, people are friendlier, and I get to see another face of Russia.
I think I should have spent fewer days in Warsaw and even less time in Kaliningrad. They’re both nice cities (actually, K’grad is a bit of a hole but it could be nice, if they finish the improvements) but I would like have seen more of Poland and maybe even some Lithuania. I definitely want to see more of Russia. I’ve taken the night train here, so I haven’t seen that much out the window – kind of obvious, that – it was night and the countryside was dark, nothing to see. I would like to have caught Mashina Vremeni in concert; apparently they played in Kazan for free one day before I arrived.
Naturally, if I’d had more money (and more confidence in my command of Russian) I would have taken a cruise on the Volga, but where too? Astrakhan is about 3½ days down river, and Moscow the same up river, if The Lonely Planet is to be believed. Prices quoted in my (Galina’s) copy suggest that it is a cheap form of travel. Still, a quiet cruise on a quiet river would have been nice, even if I’d been sharing with Russians.
My only problem with the Russians is the language barrier. I can now hold a fairly reasonable conversation and understand most of what is said, provided there’s not too much background noise, but early on I was crap. Russians are like people everywhere, and generous hosts desperate to create a good impression. No wonder Russian officialdom has always been suspicious of foreigners: the locals would be too busy leering it up with the visitors to get any work done.
So my advice to everyone is “Go to Russia – you’ll have a really good time”. Next Post: Packing up.
The first, and most obvious, is that I would have done this sooner! And that includes moving to Aukalofa, starting and finishing the B.A. at least two years earlier, etc. For a start, I would have had more money and had a happier girlfriend. I would also have been two years younger, which may have helped with acquiring a new language. Who am I kidding; Russian is acknowledged as being one of the harder Indo-European languages to learn. Compared to Russian, French, Italian or Spanish are a doddle.
Secondly, I would have brought cash instead of traveller’s cheques. The commission charged on changing traveller’s cheques into local currency is high – it can reach 10%, even when you find a bank that is happy to cash them. Cash may be easier to steal, but it attracts a much lower exchange commission.
Thirdly, there was a travel scholarship I didn’t know existed until AFTER applications for it closed. Even $1000 would have been useful, assuming I’d got it. If ever you are in the position of being a student planning foreign study, look at ALL the possible sources of money that exist, especially the travel ones. The useful information is often hidden in obscure corners of the university campus, far from enquiring wallets and minds.
Fourthly, I would have checked that power supply for the laptop before I packed it. Murphy’s Law can strike at the worst possible moment, and the old adage of “measure twice, cut once” can be applied to more than just carpentry. Similarly, and fifth, wandering around Shanghai with the cables for the digital camera was asking to lose them, considering I was operating on adrenaline as opposed to sleep. I think I should have been ruder to the Chinese, too.
Sixthly, I should really have read up on the weather here before packing. The rain isn’t hard; it would qualify as “showers” or “light rain” in New Zealand. The heavy overcoat would have stayed at home. This would have lightened the suitcase by about 2-3 kilos, plus given me a bit more room. I also would have brought more long sleeved shirts, instead of just the five I did. I have to wear summer shirts part of the time. This hasn’t been a problem only because the winter has been surprisingly mild. This is the second warmest December on record, and they’re on track to have a brown Christmas.
Seventhly, I would have done a lot more language practice before I left. Spending several days waiting for my ears to adjust to Russian was not fun or productive. I thought I had a handle on the language before I arrived, but I was more than a little bit wrong. Large amounts of listening practice should have been done before I left.
I’m certain I chose the right city to learn. Moscow and Saint Petersburg, lovely though they may be, are BIG. Moscow is also the most expensive city in the world. Here I knew nobody, so was basically thrown in the deep end. This was both good and bad, for the usual reasons of not knowing anybody. It is cheaper than Moscow, but it meant that I had to find, or be found by, people with whom to practise my Russian. I know somebody in Moscow, a native, who would’ve been happy to help, but he also wants to practise his English, and that would probably mean my Russian wouldn’t have been spoken at all. Plus, in a smaller city, people are friendlier, and I get to see another face of Russia.
I think I should have spent fewer days in Warsaw and even less time in Kaliningrad. They’re both nice cities (actually, K’grad is a bit of a hole but it could be nice, if they finish the improvements) but I would like have seen more of Poland and maybe even some Lithuania. I definitely want to see more of Russia. I’ve taken the night train here, so I haven’t seen that much out the window – kind of obvious, that – it was night and the countryside was dark, nothing to see. I would like to have caught Mashina Vremeni in concert; apparently they played in Kazan for free one day before I arrived.
Naturally, if I’d had more money (and more confidence in my command of Russian) I would have taken a cruise on the Volga, but where too? Astrakhan is about 3½ days down river, and Moscow the same up river, if The Lonely Planet is to be believed. Prices quoted in my (Galina’s) copy suggest that it is a cheap form of travel. Still, a quiet cruise on a quiet river would have been nice, even if I’d been sharing with Russians.
My only problem with the Russians is the language barrier. I can now hold a fairly reasonable conversation and understand most of what is said, provided there’s not too much background noise, but early on I was crap. Russians are like people everywhere, and generous hosts desperate to create a good impression. No wonder Russian officialdom has always been suspicious of foreigners: the locals would be too busy leering it up with the visitors to get any work done.
So my advice to everyone is “Go to Russia – you’ll have a really good time”. Next Post: Packing up.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Daily Routines
It doesn’t matter where I am; my life tends to follow a series of routines. And being in Kazan is no different. I tend to follow the same routine during the week, and have a slightly different one for the weekend. I suppose I’m like everybody else in this regard. Routines allow us to organise our day and leave room for the mess to creep in.
A typical day starts with a shower and freshening of the fangs. I like to face the world feeling clean. Then comes breakfast, which is whatever Galina has decided I deserve – she has yet to serve fillet aspirin, for which I am grateful - with the usual cups of coffee and toast. I call it toast, but it may be fried bread, or micro-waved or something. If I rise early enough, I eat with Galina and we watch morning TV, but if I’m lazy and get up late, I watch TV by myself. Then it’s back to my room to watch an hour or so of morning TV, to kick the brain into thinking, or at least accepting, Russian, make the bed and gather up the stuff for KGU.
Then there’s the morning walk to KGU, which goes through the shortcut, down the street, under the road, up the hill and we’re there. The shortcut can be exciting, because after a rainfall, it becomes a bit of a swamp. Theoretically there is asphalt under the dirt, but the dirt has done a great job of disguise and I can only find the asphalt at either end. The walk down the hill (hill? It would qualify as a small ridge in Aukalofa, and a slight rise in Wellywood) takes me past a pothole that is growing daily. I’m sure that a small family could live in it, flooding notwithstanding, as it extends from the edge of the curb out under the road.
I use the subway to cross the only busy street between me and KGU as I don’t want to become road pizza. Russian road rules scare me; it seems the only one they have is “give way to the right”. This applies even if you are not turning. It leads to a fair amount of confusion and some impressive traffic jams. I head to KGU for 10 o’clock classes and the road isn’t busy then, but still, better safe than in a Russian hospital. The subway has a selection of kiosks that sell flowers, or t-shirts, or CDs/DVDs, that sort of carry on. If I’ve got some time up my sleeve, I’ll do a bit of browsing, mostly by looking in the window. The door on the kiosk is for the providor, not the customer, thank you. If you can’t see it, they ain’t got it.
Then it’s arrive at KGU, disrobe and climb the stairs. I’d use the lifts, but I’ve mentioned the lift/student ration before. The exercise keeps me fit, and the walk is faster than the wait and ride. And then two 1½ hour lessons separated by a ten minute break. This is Russia, we have a 20 minute break, and the lessons are about 80 minutes long. The Russians actually have a word for one and a half, which is useful. During the break, we stretch our legs, eat morning tea if we’ve brought it, and generally relax. The teachers get to unwind too.
After classes, we usually go our separate ways, but sometimes it’s the great lunch hunt, with our mouths all trying to decide what flavours they want today. We’ve all tried a fair range of places, and the best deals seem to be either the “business lunch” (100RR) at a cafe /bar on Baumana, or the daily sandwich at Subway (79RR). Either is pretty cheap, filling, and tasty. Then it’s off home to do the homework, watch more TV, read, do Sudoku’s, and catch the weather forecast. Of course, I also cook and eat dinner, which is kind of important, or I’d be spending heaps on food.
Some days, I take the laptop with me in order to check e-mails or post this blog, or carry a load of laundry to the laundrette. Galina started off doing my laundry, but her washing machine has a minor malfunction now; the door-catch is worn and the door leaks badly with a full load. So every five days I go to the laundrette, where they wash my clothes, dry and fold them and only charge me 91RR for 3kg, which is more than five days dirty clothes. Collecting the clothes, I way myself on their scales, and I’ve lost about 4-5kg since this trip began. All that walking, plus two attacks of the midnight two-step, will do that. McDonalds has acquired the nickname “the Embassy”, as it’s where most of us foreign students go to check our email. It’s one of the few places around town with free Wi-Fi internet. Okay, you’re limited to a 30 minute session and a few MB of download, but, hey, it’s free.
Going home, and because the homework usually only takes an hour to do, I’ll do some window shopping in the mall directly on my path. I’ve caught a few shorts for up and coming films - Ice Age 3, Dawn of the Dinosaurs, for example, looks a hoot. I wonder if I’ll see it on the plane ride home? I also go into the local book shops, browse there in the military section, or stroll past the souvenir vendors on Baumana, looking for suitable gifts for nearest and dearest back home. There’s an awful lot of ticky-tacky in the souvenirs, just like souvenirs everywhere.
That’s about my day, with the real trivia and “too much information” filtered out. Next post: What I would have done differently.
A typical day starts with a shower and freshening of the fangs. I like to face the world feeling clean. Then comes breakfast, which is whatever Galina has decided I deserve – she has yet to serve fillet aspirin, for which I am grateful - with the usual cups of coffee and toast. I call it toast, but it may be fried bread, or micro-waved or something. If I rise early enough, I eat with Galina and we watch morning TV, but if I’m lazy and get up late, I watch TV by myself. Then it’s back to my room to watch an hour or so of morning TV, to kick the brain into thinking, or at least accepting, Russian, make the bed and gather up the stuff for KGU.
Then there’s the morning walk to KGU, which goes through the shortcut, down the street, under the road, up the hill and we’re there. The shortcut can be exciting, because after a rainfall, it becomes a bit of a swamp. Theoretically there is asphalt under the dirt, but the dirt has done a great job of disguise and I can only find the asphalt at either end. The walk down the hill (hill? It would qualify as a small ridge in Aukalofa, and a slight rise in Wellywood) takes me past a pothole that is growing daily. I’m sure that a small family could live in it, flooding notwithstanding, as it extends from the edge of the curb out under the road.
I use the subway to cross the only busy street between me and KGU as I don’t want to become road pizza. Russian road rules scare me; it seems the only one they have is “give way to the right”. This applies even if you are not turning. It leads to a fair amount of confusion and some impressive traffic jams. I head to KGU for 10 o’clock classes and the road isn’t busy then, but still, better safe than in a Russian hospital. The subway has a selection of kiosks that sell flowers, or t-shirts, or CDs/DVDs, that sort of carry on. If I’ve got some time up my sleeve, I’ll do a bit of browsing, mostly by looking in the window. The door on the kiosk is for the providor, not the customer, thank you. If you can’t see it, they ain’t got it.
Then it’s arrive at KGU, disrobe and climb the stairs. I’d use the lifts, but I’ve mentioned the lift/student ration before. The exercise keeps me fit, and the walk is faster than the wait and ride. And then two 1½ hour lessons separated by a ten minute break. This is Russia, we have a 20 minute break, and the lessons are about 80 minutes long. The Russians actually have a word for one and a half, which is useful. During the break, we stretch our legs, eat morning tea if we’ve brought it, and generally relax. The teachers get to unwind too.
After classes, we usually go our separate ways, but sometimes it’s the great lunch hunt, with our mouths all trying to decide what flavours they want today. We’ve all tried a fair range of places, and the best deals seem to be either the “business lunch” (100RR) at a cafe /bar on Baumana, or the daily sandwich at Subway (79RR). Either is pretty cheap, filling, and tasty. Then it’s off home to do the homework, watch more TV, read, do Sudoku’s, and catch the weather forecast. Of course, I also cook and eat dinner, which is kind of important, or I’d be spending heaps on food.
Some days, I take the laptop with me in order to check e-mails or post this blog, or carry a load of laundry to the laundrette. Galina started off doing my laundry, but her washing machine has a minor malfunction now; the door-catch is worn and the door leaks badly with a full load. So every five days I go to the laundrette, where they wash my clothes, dry and fold them and only charge me 91RR for 3kg, which is more than five days dirty clothes. Collecting the clothes, I way myself on their scales, and I’ve lost about 4-5kg since this trip began. All that walking, plus two attacks of the midnight two-step, will do that. McDonalds has acquired the nickname “the Embassy”, as it’s where most of us foreign students go to check our email. It’s one of the few places around town with free Wi-Fi internet. Okay, you’re limited to a 30 minute session and a few MB of download, but, hey, it’s free.
Going home, and because the homework usually only takes an hour to do, I’ll do some window shopping in the mall directly on my path. I’ve caught a few shorts for up and coming films - Ice Age 3, Dawn of the Dinosaurs, for example, looks a hoot. I wonder if I’ll see it on the plane ride home? I also go into the local book shops, browse there in the military section, or stroll past the souvenir vendors on Baumana, looking for suitable gifts for nearest and dearest back home. There’s an awful lot of ticky-tacky in the souvenirs, just like souvenirs everywhere.
That’s about my day, with the real trivia and “too much information” filtered out. Next post: What I would have done differently.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Got A Hobby?
I know we all have one interest in common – Science Fiction and/or Fantasy; but do you have a hobby? I’ve discovered, much to wallet’s disgust, that I have several. Apart from the usual guy-type interests, I have two main hobbies: assembling small scale plastic kits or models, and collecting books, and history books in particular. Can’t get enough of them. As much of what I am interested in is focused on this part of the world, it would appear I’m in almost the ideal place to satisfy these lusts. Well, there are a few problems.
The first one is a decided lack of money. Due to some appalling lack of planning, I’ve got less money to spend than I would really like. I know I have a great and oversized limit on the plastic card, but that is being approached at light speed. The sudden financial crisis has hit the exchange rate badly, and while NZ$1 = 15RR, or thereabouts, several small purchases can add up to a lot of RR and then that translates into a significant pile of NZ$.
The second is that, while plastic models make be quite cheap and light, they are also fragile. So they have to go into the carry-on luggage, or be subjected to postage. Poor choices in packing can result in some serious hissy-fits when I get home. It doesn’t bear thinking about. I was asked, by a friend, if I could buy a particular model kit while I was on my peregrinations. Not really a problem from the money point of view, but the man wanted a 1/48th scale Polish bomber. The kit is rather large and I would have had trouble keeping that intact, if I’d bought it. So, sorry Brett, but it stays in Poland and you’ll just have to buy it over the Internet.
Books don’t suffer from the fragility problem that models do, and I could go mad and buy heaps. I mean, the Russians are obsessed with the history of WWII and there are several small publishing houses devoted to producing memoires, illustrated histories, monographs and what have you on the subject. Their own history is also quite interesting (well, it is too me) and there’s a lively publishing scene devoted to that subject too. But the really good ones are HUGE and cost accordingly; a good, and I do mean good, tome on the subject will cost well over 1000RR.
You’ll probably notice I said "tome" – we’re talking something that would sit alongside the Encyclopaedia Britannica and not look out of place. Which means the bugger is going to weigh heaps. My suitcase was shedding handles on the way here. I don’t want to have to carry it by the zips on the return journey, or pay God knows how much in excess baggage. These big books weigh over a kilo, and my bag weighed close to 20kg, the limit, as it was.
I could buy a few SF books and pass them around the club to enjoy. I’m sure you’d like that – most of what is available is in, surprise, surprise, Russian. And who, apart from me, reads that? I know, we’ll get Leonid to read them to us. However, having only a working knowledge of Russian, I am hard-pressed to choose really good representatives of the genre from the local selection. SF is still considered a viable and acceptable literary expression in Russia. This comes of it being one of the few acceptable forms of escapist fiction that could sneak a broad range of ideas, and criticisms, past the censers. Thus, the bookshops are having a hard time parting me and my shekels.
Of course, apart from the local writers, and there seem to be quite a few, foreign authors are also translated into Russian. Sometimes it takes me a moment to recognise their names after they’ve been transliterated, but it’s not that hard. The problems usually occur with W and H, not letters or sounds found in Russian.
But I have bought one Russian SF/Fantasy book: an omnibus edition of Night Watch, Day Watch¸ and Twilight Watch¸ by Sergei Luk’yanenko (and Vladimir Bacil’ev). It’s hardback, over 900 pages and I’ve managed to wade through 200 pages of Night Watch, mostly without the help of a dictionary. I’m not using the dictionary because firstly, I want to improve my Russian, and secondly, the safety net has to come down sometime. I brought the English translation of it with me, but somehow, I don’t know if I’ll read it. Actually, with the Russian, there’s a lot of guessing the word and “fill in the blanks”. Kind of fun, in an odd sort of way. I didn’t realise the books were actually three stories each. Once I’ve finished the first book, I might watch the film, in Russian of course.
Maybe I will buy a few more books. Tease you all with them.
Next post: My Normal Routine.
The first one is a decided lack of money. Due to some appalling lack of planning, I’ve got less money to spend than I would really like. I know I have a great and oversized limit on the plastic card, but that is being approached at light speed. The sudden financial crisis has hit the exchange rate badly, and while NZ$1 = 15RR, or thereabouts, several small purchases can add up to a lot of RR and then that translates into a significant pile of NZ$.
The second is that, while plastic models make be quite cheap and light, they are also fragile. So they have to go into the carry-on luggage, or be subjected to postage. Poor choices in packing can result in some serious hissy-fits when I get home. It doesn’t bear thinking about. I was asked, by a friend, if I could buy a particular model kit while I was on my peregrinations. Not really a problem from the money point of view, but the man wanted a 1/48th scale Polish bomber. The kit is rather large and I would have had trouble keeping that intact, if I’d bought it. So, sorry Brett, but it stays in Poland and you’ll just have to buy it over the Internet.
Books don’t suffer from the fragility problem that models do, and I could go mad and buy heaps. I mean, the Russians are obsessed with the history of WWII and there are several small publishing houses devoted to producing memoires, illustrated histories, monographs and what have you on the subject. Their own history is also quite interesting (well, it is too me) and there’s a lively publishing scene devoted to that subject too. But the really good ones are HUGE and cost accordingly; a good, and I do mean good, tome on the subject will cost well over 1000RR.
You’ll probably notice I said "tome" – we’re talking something that would sit alongside the Encyclopaedia Britannica and not look out of place. Which means the bugger is going to weigh heaps. My suitcase was shedding handles on the way here. I don’t want to have to carry it by the zips on the return journey, or pay God knows how much in excess baggage. These big books weigh over a kilo, and my bag weighed close to 20kg, the limit, as it was.
I could buy a few SF books and pass them around the club to enjoy. I’m sure you’d like that – most of what is available is in, surprise, surprise, Russian. And who, apart from me, reads that? I know, we’ll get Leonid to read them to us. However, having only a working knowledge of Russian, I am hard-pressed to choose really good representatives of the genre from the local selection. SF is still considered a viable and acceptable literary expression in Russia. This comes of it being one of the few acceptable forms of escapist fiction that could sneak a broad range of ideas, and criticisms, past the censers. Thus, the bookshops are having a hard time parting me and my shekels.
Of course, apart from the local writers, and there seem to be quite a few, foreign authors are also translated into Russian. Sometimes it takes me a moment to recognise their names after they’ve been transliterated, but it’s not that hard. The problems usually occur with W and H, not letters or sounds found in Russian.
But I have bought one Russian SF/Fantasy book: an omnibus edition of Night Watch, Day Watch¸ and Twilight Watch¸ by Sergei Luk’yanenko (and Vladimir Bacil’ev). It’s hardback, over 900 pages and I’ve managed to wade through 200 pages of Night Watch, mostly without the help of a dictionary. I’m not using the dictionary because firstly, I want to improve my Russian, and secondly, the safety net has to come down sometime. I brought the English translation of it with me, but somehow, I don’t know if I’ll read it. Actually, with the Russian, there’s a lot of guessing the word and “fill in the blanks”. Kind of fun, in an odd sort of way. I didn’t realise the books were actually three stories each. Once I’ve finished the first book, I might watch the film, in Russian of course.
Maybe I will buy a few more books. Tease you all with them.
Next post: My Normal Routine.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Visas
Before I set out for Russia, I had to apply for a visa. Nothing unusual about this, as many countries require a visa for entry. I was going to be here for 16 weeks or thereabouts, and so looked for the most cost-effective visa available. Unfortunately, what I wanted, time-wise, wasn’t an option. I could have spent oodles on a six month business visa, but that was ridiculous. And anyway, the Russian Embassy advised me to get a three month, single entry visa and said that after I’d been in the country a while, I could get it upgraded to a six or twelve month, multi-entry student visa. All well and good.
So I dutifully applied for my three month visa, including all the necessary paperwork: invitation from the host institute (KGU), passport, HIV-negative certificate, return post-paid envelope. After some to-ing and fro-ing, because some of the paperwork wasn’t quite what they wanted, my three month, single entry visa arrived – one week before I left New Zealand. Bit of nail-biting went on in that last fortnight, I can tell you.
Actually, because I was doing a quick plane change in Moscow to get to Warsaw, I was a little concerned that my visa requirements might need an extra entry to Russia. Or worse still, the flights might not connect properly and I would have to spend a night in Moscow because of bad weather or other delays. As it was, I got bumped to a flight three hours after my original one to Warsaw, but got to enjoy the luxuries of Lot Polish Airlines.
Arriving in Kazan, we were told to apply for the student visa one month (1st October onwards) later. I think they figured the serious students would have stayed and the chaff would fly away on what passes for a wind in these parts. This gave us all a chance to settle in, get used to the systems, and them a chance to sort out our first round of problems.
So October duly arrived, and I decided to apply for the student visa. I was a little slow of the mark and completed the necessary paperwork, payments and supply of photos only by 14 October. And then the waiting began. Of course, I didn’t expect the visa to materialise the next day. That would be a dream, even in New Zealand. We were told it would be about two weeks. That made it the end of October. Maybe the beginning of November if the Men in the Ministry were having a bad day.
People’s visas began to arrive in dribs and drabs. I started asking after three weeks, as that seemed reasonable. No, sorry, not here yet, the nice lady in the office said. I wasn’t worried; I still had three weeks on my old one. But hand over your passport, as we’re getting a whole bunch tomorrow and it’s easier to sort things out. In return I got a photocopy of the important bits of mine back. I returned the next day to discover it wasn’t ready. Come back tomorrow, she said.
Tomorrow started to acquire the flavour of mañana, as my passport lingered in the office safe. Where the visa was, nobody knew. The nice lady began to apologise to me every time I opened the door. Try again the day after tomorrow became the standard reply to my question “is it here yet?” Actually, Russian has a word for “the day after tomorrow”, and usually it has a definite meaning, which is, of course, the day after tomorrow. In this case, mañana loomed.
I got used to going to the office and hearing “no, maybe the day after tomorrow”. I started to get concerned. My old visa was due to expire in less than a week. Galina, my landlady, was a bit worried too; what would I do if it didn’t arrive. We didn’t talk about it. The Swiss gent in my class asked, in his slightly stilted English, if “I have yet got my visa”. The two young Scandinavians found his style amusing, and would copy it from time to time.
So, after a bout of food poisoning, a very mild dose of the flu, one huge night’s sleep, rock concert, and a ghastly shock as to the value of the Kiwi dollar (about half that of the US), I returned to the office and a really big shock – my visa had arrived (big drum roll and splash on the cymbals please, Mr Skins). I had been half expecting to have to bribe an MVD (Ministry of Internal Affairs, but in Russian) official for the pleasure of staying here another three-four weeks. But no, only 20RR to cover re-registering where I lived. I had my passport again.
I am no longer living in fear of being deported as an overstayer, or taking circuitous routes home, in case the MVD have me targeted. I don’t know if marrying a Russian would have done anything to improve my chances of staying here long term, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to find out. Finding a bride wouldn’t have been too difficult, but finding one I liked would’ve. Even Broderick Wells has standards. “You have a pulse, and I like that in a woman”, or “You’re breathing, and I’ve always admired that” may be fine sentiments for some, but I try to aim a little higher.
Anyway, now I can stay until mid-December, and cross the border as often as I like. However, the latter involves having the money to cross the border. I’m about 800km east of Moscow. The nearest country to here, not counting the technically independent autonomous republics littering the Russian Federation, is either Kazakhstan or the Ukraine. Both are at least 1200km away. And I’m almost broke. Sigh.
Next post: Got a Hobby?
So I dutifully applied for my three month visa, including all the necessary paperwork: invitation from the host institute (KGU), passport, HIV-negative certificate, return post-paid envelope. After some to-ing and fro-ing, because some of the paperwork wasn’t quite what they wanted, my three month, single entry visa arrived – one week before I left New Zealand. Bit of nail-biting went on in that last fortnight, I can tell you.
Actually, because I was doing a quick plane change in Moscow to get to Warsaw, I was a little concerned that my visa requirements might need an extra entry to Russia. Or worse still, the flights might not connect properly and I would have to spend a night in Moscow because of bad weather or other delays. As it was, I got bumped to a flight three hours after my original one to Warsaw, but got to enjoy the luxuries of Lot Polish Airlines.
Arriving in Kazan, we were told to apply for the student visa one month (1st October onwards) later. I think they figured the serious students would have stayed and the chaff would fly away on what passes for a wind in these parts. This gave us all a chance to settle in, get used to the systems, and them a chance to sort out our first round of problems.
So October duly arrived, and I decided to apply for the student visa. I was a little slow of the mark and completed the necessary paperwork, payments and supply of photos only by 14 October. And then the waiting began. Of course, I didn’t expect the visa to materialise the next day. That would be a dream, even in New Zealand. We were told it would be about two weeks. That made it the end of October. Maybe the beginning of November if the Men in the Ministry were having a bad day.
People’s visas began to arrive in dribs and drabs. I started asking after three weeks, as that seemed reasonable. No, sorry, not here yet, the nice lady in the office said. I wasn’t worried; I still had three weeks on my old one. But hand over your passport, as we’re getting a whole bunch tomorrow and it’s easier to sort things out. In return I got a photocopy of the important bits of mine back. I returned the next day to discover it wasn’t ready. Come back tomorrow, she said.
Tomorrow started to acquire the flavour of mañana, as my passport lingered in the office safe. Where the visa was, nobody knew. The nice lady began to apologise to me every time I opened the door. Try again the day after tomorrow became the standard reply to my question “is it here yet?” Actually, Russian has a word for “the day after tomorrow”, and usually it has a definite meaning, which is, of course, the day after tomorrow. In this case, mañana loomed.
I got used to going to the office and hearing “no, maybe the day after tomorrow”. I started to get concerned. My old visa was due to expire in less than a week. Galina, my landlady, was a bit worried too; what would I do if it didn’t arrive. We didn’t talk about it. The Swiss gent in my class asked, in his slightly stilted English, if “I have yet got my visa”. The two young Scandinavians found his style amusing, and would copy it from time to time.
So, after a bout of food poisoning, a very mild dose of the flu, one huge night’s sleep, rock concert, and a ghastly shock as to the value of the Kiwi dollar (about half that of the US), I returned to the office and a really big shock – my visa had arrived (big drum roll and splash on the cymbals please, Mr Skins). I had been half expecting to have to bribe an MVD (Ministry of Internal Affairs, but in Russian) official for the pleasure of staying here another three-four weeks. But no, only 20RR to cover re-registering where I lived. I had my passport again.
I am no longer living in fear of being deported as an overstayer, or taking circuitous routes home, in case the MVD have me targeted. I don’t know if marrying a Russian would have done anything to improve my chances of staying here long term, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to find out. Finding a bride wouldn’t have been too difficult, but finding one I liked would’ve. Even Broderick Wells has standards. “You have a pulse, and I like that in a woman”, or “You’re breathing, and I’ve always admired that” may be fine sentiments for some, but I try to aim a little higher.
Anyway, now I can stay until mid-December, and cross the border as often as I like. However, the latter involves having the money to cross the border. I’m about 800km east of Moscow. The nearest country to here, not counting the technically independent autonomous republics littering the Russian Federation, is either Kazakhstan or the Ukraine. Both are at least 1200km away. And I’m almost broke. Sigh.
Next post: Got a Hobby?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Is It Winter Yet?
I arrived in Russia in late summer, and was expecting a reasonably steady decline of the temperatures into winter. Actually, I was expecting the daytime temperature to plunge sometime in mid- late-November, with nights progressively getting colder. So much for expectations, here’s reality: the weather fluctuated between hot, cool, and mild until mid October. Then cool was the norm. The locals asked me if I was cold (no). I wore the lightweight jacket most of the time.
Three weeks ago, on Freedom Day (commemorating kicking the Poles out of Moscow in 1612), I stepped out the door to go to the movies, and it snowed! We got 2cm over the next 24 hours. The temperature had dropped to -2C. Kazan was white, and I appreciated the central heating and other small amenities. But it didn’t last, and the temperature rose to +5C, the snow evaporated, and we had a couple of weeks of mild weather. The locals asked me if I was cold (still no). I started wearing the heavy jacket I bought at the market.
Now, these questions as to my being cold arise from one of my (bad) habits – I’m a smoker. I smoke a pipe. As Galina doesn’t smoke, I figured it was fair and reasonable to go outside to light up. The alternative, sending her out when I smoked, just didn’t seem fair. So I lurk outside, smoke a pipe, read my book, and chat to the locals. This is what prompts the “Cold?” questions. I wear a hat, my jacket, and stand out of the weather and near a street light. Previously they asked if I had enough light (yes).
When the temperature dropped to -2C, I was about ready to give up smoking. I remembered snow, but had forgotten how arse-numbingly cold continental winters can get. And this was only (hah, only) -2C. Breathe in, nostrils freeze, breathe out, nostrils thaw, breathe in, nostrils freeze – Mission Control, we have a problem. But I must have gotten accustomed to the cold, because my fingers still worked, and my feet weren’t blocks of ice.
Following the first snow, and subsequent Eskimo summer, the temperature hovered close to, but above, freezing. My ears got used to cold. At first I wanted to charge off to the market and buy an ushanka – one of those lovely, warm sheepskin hats everybody wears in Hollywood films set in Russia. They have fold-down flaps to keep the ears warm. But then, once I leave Kazan, where and when would I wear it? We pretend Aukalofa gets winter, but really, is it THAT cold?
This week we got another dumping of snow. They’d been predicting lots for Thursday and wet snow on Friday. They were three quarter right – we got some snow Thursday, hardly worth mentioning, and then the wet stuff arrived Friday. It looked like snow, it fell like snow, it landed like rain. It was raining, I mean snowing, quite hard when I went to KGU. My hat got soaked. The ground was covered in white slush. Puddles formed. My favourite shortcut turned into a half-frozen swamp (an old house burnt down, they tore out the remains, and tracked dirt everywhere). People shuffled down the street, skidding on the white muck underfoot. I hate wet snow. I now know what galoshes are really for.
I have a new phrase I listen for on the weather forecast – mokriy sneg (мокрый снег). It translates into wet shoes, wet socks, cold feet, and grumpy Russians. But because the temperature was +3C, the snow soon melted and everything dried out, sort of. It is close to freezing, after all. But for a while the statue of young Lenin looked like it had been the target of a large flock of west-bound pigeons. Kind of appropriate, considering what he did to the country.
And then Saturday and Sunday the temperature climbed again. It hit +8C on Sunday, which is positively tropical. I wore lightweight socks, a summer shirt, and even considered putting the summer jacket back on. I began to wonder why I packed the really heavy winter socks – the ones that come up to my nads and contain half a sheep each.
But now we look like getting winter for real. The forecast for the next few days is for temperatures to drop below zero, even during the day, and more snow. Maybe I’ll wear my gloves, my scarf. The heavy jacket has an extra lining, which I’ve taken out. I’ve worn it with the lining – breathing makes me sweat.
However, the one downside (I don’t mind the cold), is that I have to wear one hell of a lot more to KGU. Once inside the door, I then strip down to my undies to climb the stairs. There are five lifts that work, and they only stop at selected floors. There are 50,000 students all pushing and shoving to get in them. As my lessons are on the 13th floor, I work up a decent thermal output by the time I arrive by foot. It’s also quicker than waiting for the lifts. But I have to carry the pack, my jacket, sweatshirt and any other clothes I’ve decided might prove useful today. Still, it warms me up.
Next post: Visas.
Three weeks ago, on Freedom Day (commemorating kicking the Poles out of Moscow in 1612), I stepped out the door to go to the movies, and it snowed! We got 2cm over the next 24 hours. The temperature had dropped to -2C. Kazan was white, and I appreciated the central heating and other small amenities. But it didn’t last, and the temperature rose to +5C, the snow evaporated, and we had a couple of weeks of mild weather. The locals asked me if I was cold (still no). I started wearing the heavy jacket I bought at the market.
Now, these questions as to my being cold arise from one of my (bad) habits – I’m a smoker. I smoke a pipe. As Galina doesn’t smoke, I figured it was fair and reasonable to go outside to light up. The alternative, sending her out when I smoked, just didn’t seem fair. So I lurk outside, smoke a pipe, read my book, and chat to the locals. This is what prompts the “Cold?” questions. I wear a hat, my jacket, and stand out of the weather and near a street light. Previously they asked if I had enough light (yes).
When the temperature dropped to -2C, I was about ready to give up smoking. I remembered snow, but had forgotten how arse-numbingly cold continental winters can get. And this was only (hah, only) -2C. Breathe in, nostrils freeze, breathe out, nostrils thaw, breathe in, nostrils freeze – Mission Control, we have a problem. But I must have gotten accustomed to the cold, because my fingers still worked, and my feet weren’t blocks of ice.
Following the first snow, and subsequent Eskimo summer, the temperature hovered close to, but above, freezing. My ears got used to cold. At first I wanted to charge off to the market and buy an ushanka – one of those lovely, warm sheepskin hats everybody wears in Hollywood films set in Russia. They have fold-down flaps to keep the ears warm. But then, once I leave Kazan, where and when would I wear it? We pretend Aukalofa gets winter, but really, is it THAT cold?
This week we got another dumping of snow. They’d been predicting lots for Thursday and wet snow on Friday. They were three quarter right – we got some snow Thursday, hardly worth mentioning, and then the wet stuff arrived Friday. It looked like snow, it fell like snow, it landed like rain. It was raining, I mean snowing, quite hard when I went to KGU. My hat got soaked. The ground was covered in white slush. Puddles formed. My favourite shortcut turned into a half-frozen swamp (an old house burnt down, they tore out the remains, and tracked dirt everywhere). People shuffled down the street, skidding on the white muck underfoot. I hate wet snow. I now know what galoshes are really for.
I have a new phrase I listen for on the weather forecast – mokriy sneg (мокрый снег). It translates into wet shoes, wet socks, cold feet, and grumpy Russians. But because the temperature was +3C, the snow soon melted and everything dried out, sort of. It is close to freezing, after all. But for a while the statue of young Lenin looked like it had been the target of a large flock of west-bound pigeons. Kind of appropriate, considering what he did to the country.
And then Saturday and Sunday the temperature climbed again. It hit +8C on Sunday, which is positively tropical. I wore lightweight socks, a summer shirt, and even considered putting the summer jacket back on. I began to wonder why I packed the really heavy winter socks – the ones that come up to my nads and contain half a sheep each.
But now we look like getting winter for real. The forecast for the next few days is for temperatures to drop below zero, even during the day, and more snow. Maybe I’ll wear my gloves, my scarf. The heavy jacket has an extra lining, which I’ve taken out. I’ve worn it with the lining – breathing makes me sweat.
However, the one downside (I don’t mind the cold), is that I have to wear one hell of a lot more to KGU. Once inside the door, I then strip down to my undies to climb the stairs. There are five lifts that work, and they only stop at selected floors. There are 50,000 students all pushing and shoving to get in them. As my lessons are on the 13th floor, I work up a decent thermal output by the time I arrive by foot. It’s also quicker than waiting for the lifts. But I have to carry the pack, my jacket, sweatshirt and any other clothes I’ve decided might prove useful today. Still, it warms me up.
Next post: Visas.
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