After a failed attempt to find an art gallery and the movie Julie and Julia, which overall was inspirational but dragged a bit in the middle and was disappointing in the end, I had a unique experience on the metro.
Usually, everyone on the metro wears their serious, worn out, or sad faces. They look through each other. They scrutinize the way others are dressed, and they definitely DON'T talk to strangers. But tonight was different.
In a good mood and feeling confident and a little talkative, I got on the metro with a sparkle in my eye. I watched others get on, and I noticed a group of three people who sat down across from me - a couple and their friend.
After the train left the station, the woman asked for a piece of gum. Her boyfriend didn't have any, so the friend looked in his bag and pulled out a piece of gum. It was a little crumpled, yet overall it looked all right.
The girl took it and stared at it like it was something alien, "What is this? What's wrong with it? Why is it all crumpled up?" she accusingly asked the friend.
He sort of shrugged, and she opened the wrapper, figured the gum was ok, and stuck it in her mouth.
In this midst of this, I couldn't help thinking about a parallel situation from high school. A good friend of mine often had "random snacks" in her sweater pockets and would offer them to people, regardless of the state. Maybe you'd like a Sour Patch Kid? or a saltine? Needless to say, I couldn't hide the smirk on my face which quickly turned into a giggle when the boyfriend and friend noticed my smirk.
The situation took a turn for the extraordinary when the boyfriend turned to the woman and told her that I thought the situation was funny. We all exchanged smiles and shaking of heads. Then the friend pulled out a piece of candy for himself, and the boyfriend asked, "What else do you have in there?", looked at me and sort of shook his head. I still couldn't stop giggling - maybe he had a Sour Patch Kid ...
At this point, the four of us were openly having a silent conversation. The friend took out another piece of candy and offered it to me - what was I supposed to do? refuse? "Thanks." The whole situation was ridiculous.
Finally, the boyfriend looked at his friend ... "What? Do you have more?" "Nothing. That's it." The friend turned his bag upside down to show that there was nothing else and shared his piece of candy with the boyfriend. "Eh, what do you do?"
My previous apartments were in "newer" areas of Moscow where the buildings were mostly stucco or cement. I am now living in an area that I understand exhibits one aspect of Stalin's Social Realist architecture - which could also be called Neoclassical Revival. This architecture is characterized by an older feel with roman arches, ornate brickwork, and pilasters.
My building is a little more Romanesque, with the heavy brickwork on the bottom, and lighter on the top. Above is the outside of my building on Козмонавта Волкова "Cosmonaut Volkova"
The view from my kitchen window. On the left you will see my lovely fire escape ladder, and while I have no idea how I will stretch from my window to the ladder, its still nice to have a fire escape. This is the first time!
View from my bathroom window
Fall outside of my new apartment at М. Войковская (Metro Voikovskaya)
I continue to be amazed by the different feeling a city is given just by the apartment you live in, the area that surrounds it, and your place of work. Being surrounded by "historic" Stalinist architecture and yet living in an ultra modern, Euro-style apartment provides an awesome and inspiring juxtaposition of eras. Nearly everyday, I walk through this Stalin era district then go underground and pop-up in the center of the city where the contrast between "old" and "new" is ever more evident in the historic buildings plastered with neon signs advertising Pepsi and other multinationals. While there are remnants of a city older than the 20th century with St. Basil's and other churches, during the 20th century much of the old was leveled to make way for the new. Hopefully as Moscow continues to fight its way to the front of modernization - the tallest building in Europe is in the new Moscow City district - history won't again be plowed over to make way for a newer, fancier, glass city.
The traditional Russian shop or продукты (pra-duke-tee) carries an assortment of goods, all of which are safe-guarded behind a counter or in semi-locked cases. This means that in order to buy anything, you have to know how to ask for it. In other words it requires communication in Russian.
While I spent the first year in Moscow often avoiding these shops, I now live in an area that has one "Western style" grocery and many, many more small shops. Sometimes the shops are specialized, for example they carry only soaps, detergents and things. Sometimes the shops take the form of a vegetable and fruit stand. And sometimes they look a lot like a regular old American convenience store, only with the majority of goods behind the counter. Needless to say, there is a great opportunity to practice some Russian and force myself to step out of my comfort zone. I have made the resolution to stop in a produkty at least once a day to ask for something - whether it's something I need, like toilet paper, or something I want, like chips.
So far I have had a week of produkty adventures. Most of them going quite normally, but three of them teaching me something or becoming more than a simple exchange of: "May I have some sour cream and onion chips?" "That will be 35 rubles."
The first. My resolution began the night I decided I needed bug spray to keep from getting eaten by mosquitoes. While I could have gone to the large "Wal-Mart" style supermarket, I chose to stop by the small store that carries household items. Before going inside, I texted Victor for the Russian word for mosquito. Комар (Kamar). I went into the shop and asked if they had Kamar Spray (the word for spray is the same). I also gestured, just in case my pronunciation was off. The man told me yes, and pointed out "Off" -- Then, just to make sure he understood what the issue was and to see if there was anything different to try, I tried to say "for my apartment" ... but ended up gesturing and just saying квартира (kvartira, which means apartment). He then nodded his head, and said something like they come out at night and bite you? I said yes, and he showed me "Off" and also suggested that I could try some tablets. The tablet idea confused me so, I just ended up with "Off." The first serious case of produkty shopping successfully completed.
The second. After picking up "Off", I felt quite confident. As I was thinking about my dinner, I decided I needed an onion. Again, it was more convenient to stop by a vegetable stand then to go to the large supermarket. So, I sallied my way up to the stand ... looked at the different onions offered and then asked for two white onions. I later realized that I made what many Russians would consider a fatal mistake. I didn't ask if they were fresh, but I lucked out ... this time. The woman in the stand weighed the onions and said what I heard as the equivalent of "eighte..." With the traffic and my short attention span when it comes to listening to another language, I didn't catch much more. I asked her to repeat, but heard the same, so I assumed she said "eighty", which in Russian is восемьдесят (vosyem'deeset). I had a 1,000 ruble bill and three 10 ruble bills. So, I handed her the thousand with a questioning look to see if she would accept it. At first, she looked like she was going to, and then she looked again at the money I had ... and asked me if I had smaller bills. I was confused, so I took out the three 10s and showed them to her. She took two 10s, and all the sudden it dawned on me, she had asked for eighTEEN, not eighty! So, I said, "OOOhhh! восемьНАдят не восемьДЕсят (vosyem'NAdset nee vosyem'DEEset)." She just laughed and gave me my two rubles change.
The third. Since I first arrived in Russia, I have learned many words meaning to-go, there, over there, etc., but until the other day at the produkty, I only knew one word that meant here. How did I learn it? The hard, humiliating way that language comes sometimes.
On the second day of my resolution, I decided I wanted ice cream. So, I walked into a shop and looked at the ice cream selection, it looked like I might be able to grab it myself, but rather than take the easy way out and try to open the case, I asked the shop assistant if I could. She told me to go ahead and then told me to make sure it was completely closed. Then, I tried to figure out where I could pay for the ice cream. There were two shop assistants, but it looked like only one place to pay. I tried to gesture what my confusion was, and she understood and said, "Сюда (soo-dah)." This did not clarify my confusion, I thought she meant "here" but on my way over, my brain started thinking. I knew a word that sounded similar to сюда, but it meant the opposite of here. Finally, she said "Сюда!" emphatically enough, that I understood she wanted to take my money. I had learned a new word! I quickly recovered from the confusion and embarrassment, which would have stunned me in a classroom and asked, "7 rubles?" ... She told me no, that's for the "white" ice cream, and mine was pistachio ... "15 rubles." Overall, it was a good trip, I learned a word and got some great ice cream.
While Cochrane is a pretty famous name in the United States, though it might be spelled without the "e" sometimes, I have found that many people in the U.S. don't know how to pronounce it.
I remember answering the phone when I was little: "Hello?" "Hi, can I speak to Milton Coachryan?" That's when I would hangup. It had become obvious that the person was a telephone solicitor because they didn't know how to say our last name.
You can imagine that if native English speakers often can't pronounce my name, native Russian speakers would have a hell of a time. So in Russia, to native Russian speakers, my name has become Kimberli Kochreyn (spelling) - with my last name pronounced "Coach-ryan". This mis-transliteration of my name has gone on for so long that I now just let it slide and recognize it as my name, but I have been able to trace back the missteps and see how it happened.
It all started back in September 2008, at the Russian Consulate in Seattle. Of course, I filled out the visa application myself and didn't think to put the transliteration of my name in Russian, even though I had figured it out. After waiting for about an hour for my visa, they called out "Cauchryan" and I sat in my seat for a little bit, until I realized it was me they were calling. I couldn't figure out why or how they could mispronounce my name so badly, until I looked at my visa. On the visa my name is in Russian and English. The English to Russian transliteration had been literal and ended up looking like this: Кимберли Кочрейн. Literally pronounced, "Keem-byer-lee Koach-ryan". On my original visa, the mess up seemed fine. They used my spelling of my name in English and their spelling of the Russian, so I thought, ok, no problem.
Yet, when it came time to apply for my year long visa, I was no longer filling out the application and the person applying didn't look at the original spelling of my name, rather they transliterated the Russian back into English. Making my name look like this: Kimberli Kochreyn. The second year long visa application just used the spelling from the first, so, in effect, in Russia, this is my name.
Tuesday was the third time I have moved since arriving in Moscow almost a year ago. I am now living in a very Euro-style apartment. A large entryway, completely separate bedrooms, the toilet is not in its own room, and the kitchen has a proper dining table -- not to mention, a whole lot of counter space (comparatively). So, what does this mean? I'm spoiled. Currently, I'm living in this ginormous flat alone, until the school gets another native over here. No one is quite clear on when that will be.
The adventure of looking for a place in Moscow was not too exciting. Basically, you (or in my case, my company) hire an agent and tell them what price you are willing to pay and where you want the apartment to be located. You then set up meetings to see each apartment and you have to make the decision right then, in front of your future landlord. This situation is understandable. Its not a renters market. Even with the crisis, there is an incredibly high demand for flats in Moscow. So, needless to say, there is a huge likely-hood that when you make your split second decision, you will have overlooked something.
My oversight wasn't too huge. The place is nice, it's in a fairly decent part of Moscow. I have option of going grocery shopping at small shops or a huge "hypermarket" - like a super wal-mart. Since I have been in Moscow, my love of baking has emerged. I like to make banana bread, or cookies, or brownies and bring them into work. And there is one essential tool needed for baking. An oven. When I looked at the apartment, there was a strange looking device in the place of the oven, but I didn't think twice about it being an oven. It sits where the oven should, under the range, so it must be an oven. (To my disappointment this is a faulty syllogism.)
You can imagine my surprise when I opened the device and found out what it was ... a dishwasher?! What do I need a dishwasher for? And it's so tiny. Fortunately, the apartment came equipped with something I hadn't seen previously, a giant microwave with grill AND convection settings. Basically, the micro-oven will function as my oven. I'm learning, but it feels a bit like an easy bake oven. Like a toy.
