Things that make us chuckle!

We're in Kyiv, Ukraine for a few weeks. Tristan is on temporary duty for 6 weeks and I am here for 2 to see Kyiv and visit with friends Jennifer and Shawn from Russian language training. You can check out their Blog on life in Kyiv (www.greatdiversions.com). I can't load pictures because I am on a USAID computer, but we've been working on a list of things we find amusing about living in post-Soviet countries.

1. Beer is not really alcohol. It can be consumed any time of the day in public.
2. Correct change is always required. Cashiers always expect you to have exact change and are grumpy if you don't have it.
3. The customer is usually wrong. Customer service has come a LONG way, but still leaves something to be desired. We have found some folks, though, who defy the stereotype.
4. A stamp makes everything official. Russians are really into stamping things which makes them "official."
5. Sitting on cold, hard surfaces (metal, rocks, cement, etc) will cause sterility in women.

More to come . . .

Asian American Heritage Month

Thanks to the Asia Society for this:

Line too long, just crack open a beer--a trip to the Kyrgyz Embassy

Well it's been a busy week. Our HHE or Household Effects arrived and we've been swimming in boxes. Secretary Rice was here (more details and pictures later) with the message that we're not in a new cold war with Russia. And, Tristan and I had a little adventure to the Kyrgyz Embassy.

Tristan had an Admin Day to unpack our stuff (which takes forever!). We worked all weekend so we could try to accomplish two things today: find a vacuum belt for our Hoover which broke en route (no luck!) and find out about the possibility of visas for Kyrgyzstan to visit our friend and former FIUTS Friendship Connection, Timur, who was a Humphrey Fellow at the University of Washington last year.

After much searching on the internet and in the English version of the Russian Yellow pages, we found the address for the embassy and downloaded forms from the DC Embassy's site. We arrived to the Embassy just before noon and wandered around until we found the side of the building with the consulate after asking the Militsia (police) outside. We wandered into this courtyard area with absolutely no security which seemed incredibly strange to me who has to pass through several guard stations just walking within the US Embassy compound, but I suppose the Kyrgyz have yet to have their embassy actually shot at.

We got in line at the visa window and luckily there was a young woman standing there who spoke Russian, some English, and Kyrgyz. When I say a line, I really don't mean a line--it's more like a mass of people gathering in a tight group around the consular services window. Even if it's your "turn" others will interrupt with their questions and listen in on your business. Those of you who know anything about visa lines and border crossings, will know that the US in particular is a big fan of the "yellow line". "Don't cross the yellow line"--"Stay behind the Yellow Line!" My former students even did a whole skit about this. We like order in the US--straight, neat lines where everyone knows who is next. Forget that!

Tristan went to the window and asked about getting a visa. The guy at the window flipped through our passports trying to find previous visas and, I figured, our Russian visas which were stamped in our other passports. Being the American novelty they quickly ushered us to the back. No metal detector, no search of my bag, not even a guard. The door we went through latched, most of the time. We sat down in this lady's office and she gave us a new form to complete, told us to go down the hall to get a copy of our passports, and then take the paper she gave us to the bank down the street to pay for the visas and come back. All this only took about 15 minutes.

We wandered back out, made copies, and completed the form. We luckily bumped into the woman who spoke three languages from earlier and she told us where the bank was. So you understand the craziness of today, it was 86 degrees F in Moscow! HOT! Down the street we wandered through the schlapbom (guard gate), through a parking lot, around a couple buildings and finally found the SberBank. We got in another "line" and there we stood for the next TWO HOURS!!!

There were about 8 of us in this line and you would think this wouldn't take too long. By now it's about 12:15, enough time we thought to pay and get back to the Embassy before 1PM when the consulate closed. HA! The guy at the front of the line was there for at least 35 minutes. Again, this is not a straight, neat little American line. This is a mass of people all trying to figure out what's going on pressed up against the window. The surprising thing was that everyone knew where they were in this "line." Folks would go sit down, read a book, get up, push in front, ask a question, go back, sit down. Still "order" was kept. A Russian looking guy in front of us got so tired of the line, he left and went and bought a beer around the corner, came back and proceeded to sit down and start drinking it. When we started laughing (more out of commiseration), he slipped it under the desk, smiled, and asked us to keep it down. Another lady in line got out to go breast feed her kid twice. After another hour, the first guy popped open another beer. Luckily, he was on #2 by the time his turn came up and the bank guy said he couldn't process his payment because he didn't have his passport.

A word about "passports." Russians have two types of passports--domestic, which is your key to everything; and your actual passport which you use to leave the country. You can't sneeze without your domestic passport. We went to buy a cell phone and it was a big fuss because we didn't have a Russian passport. The funniest exchange was the guy trying to pay the passport fee because he lost his passport and the bank guy fussing at him because he couldn't process his payment without his passport! HUH?

Finally at 2PM, the bank guy said he was going to lunch. Ahhh, we'd been there two hours!!!! Tristan got pushy and pulled the, "I'm an American diplomat and I need to get this done now." We felt a bit guilty for using the privilege, but we'd paid our dues after two hours!! The bank guy processed the last four of us together and sent us to another window to pay, then we pooled our money, paid, and went back to the first window. Then there was the back and forth six times with the papers. Neither of us knew what the hell the little paper dance was all about. Bank guy would print something on the receipt, then an initial, more printing, initials and so on. Finally, a receipt with the correct stamp, I hope.

Tired and hungry, we decided to wander down the street for some lunch. We saw the Kyrgyz Cultural Center Cafe around the corner and thought it might be fun to eat there. We wandered in and the lady from the embassy who gave us our forms was there and told us to come in. She ushered us to the hostess and told her we were Americans and should be seated. I looked around the cafe and said, "I think the whole embassy staff is here." Later we figured out that the cafe closes 1-2:15 to feed the Kyrgyz Embassy staff. We had been cordially invited in by the consular officer. I nudged Tristan to go ask her if we could still get our visas this afternoon, and she said yes, give me your forms. So there in the Stolabaya (cafeteria), we handed the consular officer all our visa forms. Tristan was about to give her our passports when she told us to come back tomorrow at 10AM and she would stamp the passports. Stunned at receiving such gracious back-door hospitality, Tristan thanked her and sat down. Then, I realized, I would have to return in the morning without Tristan to get our visas. I nudged Tristan again to get her business card, tell her he was working, and that I didn't speak very good Russian. She said not to worry, that everyone knew her and not to worry about my language.

Maybe it was being the novel Americans, but I believe Kyrgyz hospitality redeemed what was otherwise a completely aggravating experience. Hopefully tomorrow will be equally as redeeming!

Take a ride on the Metro

Watch the last guy get on the train . . . a day in our life!


by alexweb on youtube

Thank you Mr. Waterman, I think

Well, I made it back safely. For the 2 of you who I know pop on regularly to this blog, you know it's been a bit quiet lately as I've been in the states. 3 weeks at home were busy, but fun--thanks to Rachel & Dave, Kevin & Alison, Mom & Dad, one long week at the Radisson Indy, Patti & Lori, Jessica & Laura, Amy, & back to home base at Kevin & Alison's. Phew! I think that was 7 different beds with my feet in 10 different states! YIKES!!!

Back to life in our little slice of Moscow trying to speak a language I'll never quite understand. After a successful, yet jet lagged adventure to the market, I thought I had not lost all linguistic ability. Then at 7:30AM (who knows what time for the brain), I was jolted out of bed by the water delivery man. Now for the Russian test sans coffee! Last time the water folks had come in typical Russian fashion, I had no clue about what the total bill would be and they had no change. I still find this a bit weird--vendors expect you to have correct change and get fussy if you don't have it. Of course, these guys didn't have any change so they said next time I would pay 500 rubles less. That doesn't mean this gets translated to the next guy.

So try explaining in a language you don't quite speak without coffee (ok, I'm from Seattle!), that the last guys didn't have change and you need to pay 500 less. The delivery guy thought I was quite amusing and figured I had just woken-up! He even laughed which is more than I've experienced from most Russians when they hear me speak. Usually it's confused looks and frowns. Needless to say, the water guy gave up and wrote "bezplatna" or free on the top of the bill and headed out. Well, my Russian got me something--laughter and free water!

Here's an old picture from Easter that I meant to post ages ago.



This little chapel is to the right as you come up from our Metro. We got a big fluffy blanket of snow Easter afternoon.

Eastern Market Fire

I am still in the states and return to Moscow on the 9th. I'll be in DC Monday and probably would have stopped by Eastern Market. It's one of my favorite places in the city.

To read about the fire: click here.

School visit

I had the unique opportunity to visit a proper Russian School in the south suburb of Scherbinka with EducationUSA which promotes higher education in the US. I talked (in English) with a high school English class. It was heaps of fun and a great chance to get out of the city.

Here are some photos from the visit:

Scherbinka School Visit

I am in the states for three weeks, but have some postings to catch up on.
Enjoy!
Carolyn

Protests in Moscow

Saturday was the first large-scale political protests in the city since we arrived. It's a difficult time for Democratic organizers in Russia who face constant oppression from the current government.

Here's the NYTimes article from today's paper
Former Chess Champion Is Detained at March in Moscow

By ANDREW E. KRAMER and MICHAEL SCHWIRTZ
Published: April 15, 2007
Garry Kasparov, the former chess champion, was arrested during a rally that ended in clashes with riot troops.

Best,
Carolyn

Easter Vigil

It was midnight when we finally left our apartment to walk over to Danilovsky Monastery for Easter Vigil service. Fireworks were going off in the distance marking the city's welcome of Easter. The streets were quiet, relatively empty of people which seemed so strange for Moscow.

We entered the gates of the Monastery, a 10 minute walk from our house, after passing through a non-working metal detector (not unusual in Moscow). The service from the main Hram (XPAM) was wafting out of speakers in the courtyard. Hundreds of people were milling about carrying candles in a subdued, yet festive atmosphere.

Russian Orthodox houses of worship are relatively small compared to their Catholic counterparts. There's also no seating and worshipers stand throughout the entire service (4 hours for Easter Vigil!). We tried to squeeze (literally) through the doors to get a peak and hear the music. The church was ablaze in light and the enormous golden chandelier radiated from the ceiling. An all male choir sang a repeated refrain in old church Slavonic while three priests encircled the inner part of the church carrying large, ornate candles. The congregation joined in with the choir on the refrain "XPUCTOC BOCKPECE" (khri-STOS vos-KREH-seh) 3 times. A joyful welcoming of the Risen Christ.

XPUCTOC BOCKPECE (khri-STOS vos-KREH-seh), which, in English, means "Christ is Risen!" It's the Paschal greeting, to which the proper answer is, "BOUCTUHY BOCKPECE" (vo-EEST-ih-nu vos-KREH-seh), which means "Truly he is risen!"

This dance of the candles, refrain and congregational response went on for at least half an hour while we were there, and I suspect long before and after we arrived. Growing tired of being packed in like sardines, we wandered to the basement where several icons were being prayed to and priests were offering Easter blessings. The crowds continued to amaze me as they lined up for a blessing. A few words were whispered in the priest's ear, the petitioner leaned over and the priest's stole covered their head, the priest offered the sign of the cross over the stole draped on one's head, a kiss to the cross and the Bible lying on the podium and the sign of the cross finished the ritual.

We wandered to the other XPAM where a mixed voice choir sang in the upstairs sanctuary, icons and frescoes lined the walls. Children lay sleeping in parents arms or sacked out on benches. Again everyone stood and some joined in the acappella singing. There was quiet stillness.

XPUCTOC BOCKPECE

Easter Call

Faith
in the resurrection
must come from
real glimpses
of our ability
to make whole
our suffering world.
For the work of
Christian grace
and love
is now,
not just later.

Rita Nakashima Brock
Disciples Theologian

Something Strange from Armenia

This Blogger is also Foreign Service. Good to know the strange and absurd is everywhere!

Divine Underground

Clean Thursday

Today is Clean Thursday, a day in the Russian Orthodox tradition where one cleans the house in preparation for the Easter Feast and burns junipur branches to clean out the stuffy winter air from your house. It's also the first day when Kulich(es) appear in the bakeries. A tall pastry much like pannetone, this brioche style bread takes 3-4 days to make and is a treasured Easter treat. I asked my Russian tutor about Easter traditions and she told me about this bread. On my way home, I peaked in the Goriachi Hleb (Hot Bread) stand by our house and was excited to see the tall, round loaves in the window.

I got in line and asked the woman at the window, "Eta Kulich?" "Da" she answers with a smile, amused at the cute little foreigner's interest in this Russian treat. My tall cake in hand, I headed home eagerly anticipating my first Russian Easter treat.

For a recipe: Kulich Recipe

Eggs play a significant role in Easter cooking in Russia. Besides in Kulich, they appear in a crustless cheesecake like dessert as well. I am watching a Russian talk show right now on Easter preparations. They have a nun and a priest along with other guests demonstrating the traditional foods for Easter. It's all in Russian so I am understanding about a third, but it's still kind fun!

On our evening stroll around the neighborhood Thursday, we walked up to Danilovsky Monastary which is the seat of the Russian Orthodox Church. Mostly women were streaming out of the grounds with candles in hand. It was beautiful to see the light being carried out of the church. In protestant traditions, the light gradually is extinguished marking the death of Jesus.

I watched the women guarding their light in the wind, ensuring it didn't go out as they returned to their homes. I think it says something about how their faith has been preserved during Soviet times when the church was supressed by the government. The faith was sustained through the nurture of women much like many significant cultural traditions.

Here's a little peak at my Kulich. Blessings on your Maundy Thursday.

First Month Pics

Here are some pictures from our first month in Moscow. Enjoy! The weather has been unusually warm and we haven't seen snow since we first arrived.
Cheers,
Carolyn

Moscow Arrival March 2007

Democracy & Russia

NY Times Article: March 26, 2007

Only in Moscow

Something tragic, absurd, and only found in Moscow.

http://www.sptimes.ru/index.php?action_id=2&story_id=21083

The Zoo is just down the road from the US Embassy and we pass it everyday on the way to the Metro.

Racial Tensions

It doesn’t take long in a new place to figure out the pecking order of life. Here in Russia, there has been well-publicized removals of Georgians just a few months ago portrayed as the result of tensions between the two governments. Many complained that it would be the end of decent food and wine in the city. Moreover, it has ushered in a broader scale Russification of the country where people with darker hair and skin are suspect and the target of government action to reclaim, in particular, economic sectors that have long been success of those from the Caucasus.

I like to walk through Danilovsky Rynok each day near our apartment. My Russian is still not good enough to strike up a conversation with vendors, and I usually feel more comfortable just pointing and asking how much certain things cost since I still lack the vocabulary for most food items. Tristan and I were on one of our evening strolls today picking out a few things for dinner and struck up a conversation with one of the vendors. I had noticed a sign on the entrance earlier in the day, but hadn’t taken the time to decipher its meaning. I did note it was rather official looking and out of place for the rynok. This woman, like many vendors in the market, is from Azerbaijan. She said she remembered me from earlier in the day. We picked out some broccoli and parsley and started to ask about a few other things she had for sale. She had us try some canned figs which were really tasty, but too sweet for us. I said next time maybe, and she said there wouldn’t be a next time. Apparently, all the non-Russian vendors are being kicked out, and she said a Russian guy would be here next week selling in her place. Everyday, she told us, she stands here 10-11 hours a day. It’s hard work. The Russians can’t do it—they are too busy drinking, she says. I showed Tristan the sign and it confirmed that March 30 would be the end of all non-Russian vendors at the market.

While our first response is to view the situation from that of the superior expat, one can’t ignore that this exact same phenomena is taking place in the US. The rynok in Russia or the meat packing plant in Kentucky or the farmland of central Washington, in either place this is the systematic removal of browner people doing the jobs that no one else wants to do. The Russians, as is culturally appropriate, are just far more blunt about the whole thing.

Africans in Russia are routinely the victims of severe violence and hatred. We attended one of the expat churches this past Sunday whose membership includes many Africans. One of their members was attacked by a group of young men with a beer bottle last year on the way to church. I definitely have concerns about being Asian in this city, but do feel lucky to also look very American and possess the privilege of a Diplomatic identity. But I continue to ask myself if this is really significantly different than the US or just far more blatant and less sophisticated? Time will tell.

To read more about Racial Tensions in Russia, click here.

Tristan's Thoughts

Hi everyone. We've been here in Moscow for two weeks now, and I've gotten a little settled. Before coming here, my only experience of the former Soviet Union was Turkmenistan and the other Central Asian countries (except Tajikistan) that I traveled through as a Peace Corps volunteer from 1996-98. It's quite amazing how different Moscow is from those places at that time. For one thing, things here for the most part work. In T-stan, a lot of things evidently used to work, during the Soviet period, but then stopped working sometime between 1991 and the time I got there.

The telephone system, for instance. To call home from T-stan, usually I had to go to the local telegraph office and give the clerk the number for the AT&T operator in Moscow (this often flummoxed the staff, most of whom seemed not to have dealt with a call to Moscow since Gorbachev's time) who spoke English and could put me through to the States.

Often this was a lenghthy and delicate process, involving waiting for the correct booth's phone to ring and then dealing with multiple audible conversations on my line and trying to determine whose voice was that of my family member on the other end.

Now, in Moscow, we just had high-speed internet installed in our apartment. I just talked to several folks back in the U.S. using our Vonage wi-fi phone, and the call was free and for the most part perfectly clear. They can call us using my old cell number, which means it's a local call for people in the Seattle area. Pretty cool.

Also, there's a lot more variety of food here. Though I haven't seen camel yet. We'll see.

more later,

Tristan

Don’t leave home without your diplomatic potatoes.

Well, we have arrived safely and with all our maxed out luggage. It’s amazing what you can stuff in 200+ pounds of luggage. Thank god everything has wheels. Our apartment is just south of the Garden Ring which encompasses the inner part of Moscow. At first impression, it’s an amazing city. We haven’t waited longer than 3 minutes for the Metro or Bus. Within 5 minutes of our apartment we can hop on the Metro, bus or trolleybus and be most places in about 30 minutes. There are three 24-hour grocery stores and several pharmacies all within walking distance, not to mention the bakery, tabak (tobacco stands), large rinok (pronounced ree-nock, or large farmer’s market), plus vendors for just about everything else you could want on the street. If you thought Russia was still the center of bread lines and limited availability, put those preconceived notions aside. THIS is the NEW RUSSIA!

With the new Russia comes a high price. Inflation is on average 10% a year, and my jaw hit the floor at the sight of a litre of soy milk (from Finland no less) for about $10 USD. Yes, I bought the soy milk.

This doesn’t mean you can’t find a bargain. Fur is still cheap and fashionable (more in later postings on fur). In the Perehod, or underground crosswalks you can find good deals and plenty of pirated DVDs.

Today is International Women’s Day (March 8^th). While originally a Communist holiday to celebrate the great contributions of women to the Soviet State, it now is a day for families to stay home and the men stop drinking enough vodka or beer to fix their wives dinner and relieve them of their household chores. In the new Russia, it’s an excuse for men to buy the women in their lives flowers formally unavailable in Soviet times. On the Metro and street this week you can see colorful splashes of tulips or roses poking out from the sea of brown and black coats. With a little prodding, I too received a bouquet of tulips. The closet equivalent in the US is Mother’s Day, but Women’s Day is better. There’s not the painful recollection of your family of origin issues, or marginalization of single or childless folks; this holiday embraces all women (and makes a ton for the flower vendors).

Well, if you’ve read this far, you might still be wondering about the diplomatic potatoes. While I made plenty of jokes about moving to the land of snow, cabbage, and potatoes, this actually has nothing to do with cooking or snow. Upon arriving in Russia, Diplomats and their families must register with the Foreign Ministry before receiving their credentials. After a few days, a pink laminated card with your picture is returned to you. This card doesn’t really do much for you except keep you out of trouble if you are stopped by the local Police and looks like something I could have engineered in High School Yearbook class. The Embassy tells us to make sure you carry your Dip Card with you at all times. Those of you who know the beauty of the Russian language know that there are many words with close pronunciations. As Tristan and I were getting ready to head our one afternoon, I tried my wonderful Russian out and said, “Don’t forget your Diplomatic Card.” With the slight mistake of a sh instead of a ch and shift in the accent, my potatoes were granted immunity and my card got left in fridge. I’m sure that won’t be my last language faux pas.

Lesson learned:

Remember the card, leave the potatoes.