Bizarro Weekend Pt. 2

So, as I was saying in the last post, on Saturday morning, I headed off to our basketball tournament. We had some difficulty getting a gym for the these games. We had already had two other venues fall through. Both of these gyms, by the way, would not even be up to Igo Ono Elementary School standards. So, after frantically searching the city, the school managed to rent the nicest gym in St. Petersburg for less than than the other gyms and for more hours. Weird.

Anyway, after watching the first few games, I walked (actually, I ran to avoid being ran over by motorists) across the street to a gas station/cafe for lunch. I went and ordered my food and asked a question or two, and then the lady behind the counter asked me something I didn't quite catch.

"I'm sorry, I'm a foreigner and I don't understand Russian well. Can you repeat that?"

"Oh, you're doing just fine! What country are you from then?"

"I'm an American."

"Truthfully? That's very interesting. You know, my daughter speaks English."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, and she's a very good girl. So polite, so intelligent."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, and she studies at the Communications College. She's an economics student. Such a pretty girl."

"Really?" 

"Blah blah blah blah telephone number blah blah blah blah you should blah."

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand that."

I was guessing she wanted me to leave my phone number so she could give it to her daughter. That wasn't going to happen. I decided I was going to tell her that I didn't have a phone when I felt my phone starting to vibrate. Anyway, she let me pay and I took my food and sat down and started eating. After a minute or two she came out from behind the counter with a pen and some paper.

"Here, let me give you my daughter's phone number."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"No, no, it is. Here I'll write it... ok, this is her cell number. This is our home number. I wrote down which metro stop we live at too."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"No, no, it is. Call her tomorrow. Don't call today, she's in classes. Call tomorrow. Don't call Monday, she's working then. Call tomorrow."

So, with that she strode back behind the counter and I continued to bemusedly eat my food. She couldn't stay away long and came up again to tell me:

"One more thing: when you call, don't tell her I gave you the number. She'll be embarrassed and say 'Oh, Mom!' Better if you just say a friend from university gave it to you. Oh, and by the way, how old are you?"

"I'm 23."

"Wonderful. Perfect. She's 21. Perfect. Well, my name is Elena and I work here, so if you have any questions just come and ask."

"Ok, it's nice to meet you, Elena."

"Call her tomorrow."

I then finished my food as quickly as I could and left, calling out, "See you later, Elena!" 

Bizarro Weekend Pt. 1

On Friday I went over to a friend's place for a Maslenitsa party ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maslenitsa ). At the end of the evening my friend Grisha and I headed back to the metro before it closed at midnight. It was getting late, so we decided to we needed to run to the metro before it closed. We arrived at 11:59 only to find the doors locked. This was a problem. We were both about as far away as you can get from our apartments, in a completely different part of the city, with no way to get home (except hitchin' a ride). We went into the metro station through the exit doors and found 3-5 drunks had done the same thing. They were shouting at the ladies working there to let them through the gates so they could catch the last train. The ladies gave as good as they got and hurled abuse back at them. My friend Grisha tried the tactful route: "Excuse me, maam. Is it possible for me and my friend to go through? After all, we can see the train is still standing there." But the ladies, evidently hardened by the abuse from the drunks, shot him down. 

So, up the stairs came a man trying to exit the station. "Excuse me, sir," Grisha said, "Could you stand over there so the gates will open and me and my friend can go through?"

"Oh no," He smiled, "That's against the rules. I'll be disciplined if I do!"

While we stood there pondering what to do next, another man came up and exited the metro. With the gates still open, Grisha, quick as a flash, ran through. He then looked at me with a sort of strained smile and urgently motioned me to come through as well. One of the drunks noticed this also and lurched through. After a moment of indecision, I ran through the gates just before they closed. One of the ladies working came steaming at us and reached out to try and grab me and the drunk guy. I deftly dodged the lady (the drunk guy didn't dodge quite as deftly, but just as effectively), ran down the stairs with her still shouting at us, lost her in the crowd and hopped on to the last train with Grisha. As the train stood there at the platform I wondered if she was going to find a policeman and scour the train for us. While I was wondering about this, I noticed two or three more people jumped on to the train with a naughty/elated smile similar to the one I had. The train left with Grisha and me on it. 

The problem was, however, that we both missed our trains that connected this metro line with ours. Grisha couldn't even get close to his part of the city, so we decided that he would come and spend the night at my place. We spent most of the ride figuring out how to do this and keeping an eye on the two drunk guys across the aisle from us, one of whom was desperately trying to keep himself from vomiting. Thankfully, were able to get off of the metro without being vomited on. We were as close as we could get to my apartment, and we started walking. And walking. And walking. Fortunately, it was a nice night (maybe 34 degrees F, and, miracle of miracles, not raining) and it wasn't too bad. We arrived in the middle of the night back at my place and promptly went to sleep.

I had to wake up early, though, because the school was hosting a basketball tournament. So, after bidding Grisha adieu, I headed off to a day of basketball, which brings me to another story about this weekend, but in the interest of keeping this post at a reasonable length (and getting to bed at  decent time; and due to the pain radiating from a possibly impacted wisdom tooth), I'll save that for later.

International Ennui

Last weekend I went to Riga... again. I think it's interesting that international travel has now become slightly blase. My new work visa was ready for pick up, so I got on a train on Thursday night and, miracle of miracles, understood most of what everyone said and was able to ask questions (and I was understood!). I arrived in Riga with some time to kill, so I headed to my hotel, which let me check in early, and napped until the afternoon when I needed to go pick up my new visa. I passed the evening going to the movies, which were in English with Latvian and Russian subtitles. I saw Frost/Nixon. I think it got an Oscar nod or two. I can't think why, to be honest. It wasn't a bad film, maybe a little uninteresting. I could tell there were a lot of other Americans in the audience because they laughed at the appropriate times. My ticket back to St. Petersburg wasn't until the next day, so to pass the time, I went and saw Yes Man. Not exactly Oscar material, but, hey, it did make me laugh. There were more Latvians in the audience because I noticed I would usually laugh a second or two before the people reading the subtitles would. Also, there were a few subtleties that non-native English speakers wouldn't get that went unnoticed by the audience. On the train ride back to Russia, I didn't understand a single word of any Russian spoken to me.

We had a three day weekend because Monday was Day of the Defenders of the Motherland (usually translated as "Men's Day" because of conscription). Russian men celebrate by drinking all day. As my friend Sveta put it, "Never is Russia more defenseless than on the Day of the Defenders."

I was reading this article by an American that had been living in China for several years. I found this quote to be particularly relevant: "We had crossed the shadowy line that divides strange from stupid."

As I walked to work this morning, I noticed how light it was for this time. I also noticed that it was going to be sunny. Also, the temperature was hovering just below freezing (warm, relatively speaking). Ah, I thought, could we be getting a little bit of spring!? Nope. I ended up walking home in heavy snowfall. The sunny promise of springtime gave way to the icy reality of winter. Wake me up in May, will you?

Another reason why I am an idiot...

...because I am studying a language that has 70 forms of the verb "to walk."

I'm an idiot

This was probably one of the dumbest things I've done in my life. The team I play with had a match on Saturday. I was ready with all my winter gear for my first game in the snow. But there was one thing I wasn't prepared for: it turns out that underneath the 2-4 inches of snow is a layer of solid ice. I should have brought skates, not cleats. After one particularly nasty fall, someone on the other team asked if I was alright. Maybe, I responded.

And I still have not found Sitro anywhere.

Interesting Conversation

I was looking for this drink they have here called "Sitro" in a few different shops around here, but couldn't seem to find it anywhere in my district. While in one of the shops I had a conversation that went something like this:

Shopgirl: blah blah blahblah you blah?

Me: Sorry, I'm a foreigner and don't understand Russian very well.

Shopgirl: (Smiles) Oh?

Me: Yes, it's a pity, isn't it?

Shopgirl: Why?

Me: Because I'm not able to understand when someone speaks to me.

Shopgirl: Maybe it's good! blahblahblah blah blah to understand blah blah blah, right?

Me: Right. Do you have "Citro"?

Shopgirl: "Citro"? What's that?

Me: It's a drink. Like ginger ale.

Shopgirl: What? (looks very confused)

Me: Well, it's not important. Thank you (I start to leave)

Shopgirl: Where are you going? (looking confused)

Me: What? (confused as to why she would be asking this question, maybe I didn't hear correctly)

Shopgirl: Where. Are. You. Going.?

Me: Home, of course.

Shopgirl: Of course. (smiling)

Me: Thanks

Shopgirl: You're welcome. 

I can't tell you why, but I found this whole encounter very bizarre. 

Watching Rambo III dubbed in Russian on TV. Life is strange, no?