7 Years and Circus

7 Years 

Start humming the theme to Mission Impossible! Got it?  Okay, now think about how to accomplish the following mission:  In a land where you do not speak the language, find six gifts for a boy who professes to like only phones.  While this message will not self-destruct,  Karen and I sure felt like we had accepted Mission Impossible trying to provide Patrick with a birthday that had some of the trimmings of home.

There is a constant frustration here that keeps catching me by surprise; I am continuously underestimating the time tasks will take.  I wrote last week about the constant need to excuse myself, but this is only part of this time related frustration.  While it can be hard to think of new things for our phone obsessed seven year old, buying gifts for the boy is still a relatively easy task to accomplish in America.   It took Karen and I three afternoon  trips to the stores to get Patrick his gifts.  

We both made the task fatal mistake of not heading out with an exact list and this just opens up the flood gates for frustration.  The stores here are just close enough in appearance  to what we know in America that we feel like we are just missing some basic bit of knowledge.  If only we had this knowledge,  we could find what we are looking for and be done with shopping.  After both of us came up essentially empty on our first tries, I headed out with an exact list and was able to fill it in time for the big day.   I realize that a list must seem like a “no brainer,” but we often cruise a Target for Patrick ideas that are not phone related.  Due to language and custom, it has proved almost impossible to shop without specific lists.

Fortunately, we managed to get the gifts and Patrick had what appears to have been a glorious weekend of turning SEVEN.   While Patrick liked the gifts he received and the trip to th circus, nothing compared to his pure joy and excitement over being allowed to Skype as much as he wanted.   Usually, I have to beg and plead to get the boys to stop playing with their friends and head home after a day at the park.  I think Patrick broke many speed records as he complied with every request to get ready to leave so we could be home at 4pm. 

When 4pm came on the big day, Patrick was parked in front of the iPAD and ready to go.  Patrick was in his absolute glory for the next two hours as everyone in the universe of Patrick called in.  While Patrick likes talking, I think his absolute favorite thing was making faces with his family over video.  On a personal note,  it was wonderful to see all of Patrick’s loved ones playing right along with the face making and giggling of a very happy seven year old.  Patrick’s Skype glory came to end in time for him to get enough rest for CIRCUS DAY.

THE CIRCUS

The circus here in Saratov is the second oldest in Russia.   While this is a point of pride here, I was not sure what to really expect from a circus that has been in the same building for 100-plus years.  While there were size  limitations due to it being a one ring circus, it was still a spectacular event for the boys and us.

Truth be told, if the circus had been limited to the first act, we would have had to chalk the experience up to a local experience.  Aside from my own house, I am not much of a circus expert, but the first act here felt like something I could see at any circus.  The first act had the juggler, the horse ballet, a balancing act and a skit involving chimps.  All pretty standard stuff and not a great preparation for the second act.

The second act started out mesmerizing for the boys and then left all of us speechless.  The boys were mesmerized by the white lions that growled and prowled around the ring.  I thought the lions were cool to see, but they were nothing in comparison to the acrobatics that followed.  I was amazed when the acrobats started flying around 100 feet above the floor without a safety net and the lights were still on.  Had they stopped the show then, I would have been very impressed by the whole show.  Then they turned the lights off.

I am not talking about turning the lights low.  Nope, the lights were turned completely off and the acrobats did their thing in pitch dark without safety nets.    It turned out the acrobats were wearing glow in the dark outfits and, when the lights when out, we were treated to the most amazing display of acrobatics I have ever seen.  Points of light from all over the ceiling swooped, flipped and spun in an incredible display of light and motion.  Pretty much every move I have ever seen at a circus was performed in the dark and without a safety net.  Needless to say, we walked out of the circus just dazzled by what we had seen and I doubt we will forget the acrobatics anytime soon.

NEW FRIENDS

In a previous posting, I have written about how we were introduced to some people here in Saratov by Ken Stoltzfus.  (Memory refresher: Ken and his family came here two years ago on a Fulbright)  One of the people was Pastor Todd Roese.  Todd is an American who has lived here for 15 years and has four kids with his Russian wife.  Todd and his boys Artur and Michael met us at the park on Saturday and then invited us for lunch at their church’s cafe.  Artur and Patrick get along very well and all four boys were soon running and playing in the café while Todd and I spoke about life Russia.  I figured the boys were okay playing with Pastor’s kids in the church’s café and it was really nice to get  Todd’s long view on life in Russia.

I realize that we are only getting a small, and very protected, dose of what life in Russia is really like.  Todd has lived here through the collapse of the Ruble, the rise of the current power structure and has spent his entire time here working directly with the people of this region.  While Todd had many interesting things to say, probably the most indicative of life over here is how the converts to his church are treated here.  

There is a very strong inclination here towards a Russia First ideology, and this extends to the primacy of the Russian Orthodox Church.   Most people here are not active worshippers at the local parish, but this does not mean that they look kindly upon people converting out of their Russian Christian faith into another non-Russian church.  The net result of this hostility towards converts is an isolation that leaves the new members of Todd’s church in need of the fellowship found at the café.  In addition to being a beacon for local converts, Todd’s church also serves the African and Indian student populations, who are both Protestant and not inclined to a Russia First ideology.   In addition to all of these outreaches, the boys and I were able to spend a nice afternoon with some new and interesting friends.

RANDOM OBSERVATION OF  THE WEEK

The word and concept of a café exists in Russia, but it does not imply a hoity-toity coffee shop with fancy sandwiches.  The word café here implies a place that will microwave the meal you select from its offerings for the day.  Russian café use a microwave where Americans use steam trays at the dine and dash shops.  The Russian café is usually a cheap place to get a hearty meal, but it is a little disconcerting to our American eyes to see lunch sitting there cold waiting to be nuked.

               

Извините and Our Daily Bread

Извините and Our Daily Bread

While I briefly mentioned Victoria, our translating Au pair, last week, I think it only appropriate to start this posting about her.  Let me put this as succinctly as I can, there was Russia before Victoria and there is Russia now that Victoria has joined our team.  The Russia before Victoria was about a half mile that had everything we needed, but was becoming ever smaller the longer we were here.  In the two weeks that Victoria has been with us, we have managed to get out of our little bubble and start to see the city of Saratov.

Our first big adventure with Victoria was to Prospect Kirova on Thursday.  Prospect Kirova is a pedestrian mall akin to Denver’s 16^th Street Mall and we went there for a little shopping and our first attempt at eating in a Russian restaurant.  Well, let us count the fact that we got out as the victory.  We managed to shop in exactly one store and eat in a restaurant that served Russian food, but it was all a little too much for the boys.  There have been several occasions when I think the stimuli of Cyrillic characters, uncommon colors, odd sounding language and some fatigue have just derailed the boys.  The boys are such troopers for the most part that the derailments have caught me by surprise.

Fortunately for Karen, she had a four day weekend due to International Women’s Day and she was able to head out for some shopping with Victoria on Friday.   This was a particularly good day for Karen, as it allowed her to shop the local shops and to get to know Victoria a little better.  Karen literally had Victoria heading back out the door the minute she got here on Friday and the two did not return until the last minute of Victoria’s time with us.  Karen came back with clothes that are fashionable here, look very good on her and were desperately needed due to two of our boxes having yet to arrive.  She even bought a pair of high heeled boots that are the essential Russian style statement!

Our next great adventure is coming on Sunday, when we will be celebrating Patrick’s 7^th birthday due Karen having to work on Saturday.  Victoria has helped us get tickets to the circus here in Saratov.  The circus is the second oldest in Russia and is reputed to be spectacular.  Victoria is also going to join us for the circus and will help us again try to eat at a Russian restaurant.  Here’s hoping the boys can enjoy the day a little more than they did on our last adventure.  At least this trip is going to be completely kid centric.

Извините (iz-vin-EE-tye) excuse me / pardon me (for attention or small apology)            

If there is ever a word in a foreign language that I will NEVER forget, it is извините (iz-vin-EE-tye).    When thinking about coming to Russian, I had these grand ideas of introducing myself, asking people there names and smiling a good day. Yeah, right!  Almost all of my interactions begin with извините, not friendly exchanges of pleasantries.  First, it is not the Russian way to be overly friendly in public; there is no tradition of making eye contact and nodding, much less saying a friendly to hello to passing strangers.  (This lack of street cordiality has been the hardest thing for me to adjust to here in Russia.  I am constantly getting weird looks when I try, habitually, to make eye contact and nod.)   Second, every time I need anything, anywhere I must say извините and then begin trying to communicate in one word exchanges, because my Russian has only gotten to the one word level.  And these reasons for извините do not even come close to the number of times I have to excuse either myself or the boys.

Stated bluntly, the boys and I are not very good at maneuvering in an urban environment.  While Americans love to make fun of “man purses,” they only do this because there is room for the manly backpack in checkout lines.  While I just cannot embrace the “man purse,” I have learned that it is not a bright idea to go into a store during peak hours with a backpack on; I will be excusing myself for bumping into someone or knocking over something due to space constraints.  The boys are also not used to the number of people that are always around and are often oblivious to the fact that they are about to block someone’s path or they are blocking a doorway.  The wide open checkout lines and essentially abandoned parks of Richmond’s suburbs are a long way away and have been replaced by tight quarters and an always packed city park.  As a result, I have become quite good at pronouncing извините.

Our Daily Bread

Food here is not packed preservatives and it is essential for one to buy only what one can eat before it spoils.  Bread has a shelf life of about three days and one better be ready to consume the dairy products once they are opened.  As a result, one is always heading to one of the countless small grocery stores on an almost daily basis.  When we first got here, it seemed I was running to the store for staples on a daily basis and I facetiously began calling it Our Daily Bread. 

Thanks to Victoria, we have now figured out how to get to the Russian version of Wal-Mart by bus. Figuring out the bus system here is an art to itself, particularly because I have not found any printed schedule or map.  While this bus trip allows us to shop at significantly cheaper prices, I am limited to what I can carry with me on the bus.  Shopping at the big store has helped turn my Daily Bread line into a figure of speech, but there is still a calculus to shopping here that we have yet to master.  I have a feeling that we will find a rhythm to shopping about the time we are heading home. 

One final note on Our Daily Bread:  When we get home, I do not think our boys will squawk to loudly when we have to run to Food Lion for milk and eggs.  After six months of walking to the store in all weather, the fact that they will be riding in car will seem like the lap of luxury.  No, I am not delusional.   I am quite sure that Patrick and Zac will start squawking pretty soon after our return, but I can hope the first couple of trips are relatively peaceful.

RANDOM OBSERVATION OF THE WEEK

Russian hockey is not nearly as violent as its North American cousin.  I, like most puckheads, have long heard about this reputation, but I had written it off as a stereotype used to belittle European players.  Well, having watched several games, I now believe this be a fact.  Just watching on TV, there have been hits not taken that would have become highlights in the States.  While I love a good hockey hit now and then,  the game here is crisper and rewards skating and passing.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY

Shockingly, there is a funny story about this bar.  It was opened by an Irishman who came to Saratov via France, where he had lived for 10 years.  The story goes that after the Irishman learned French and Russian, he became utterly incomprehensible in all three languages he spoke.

Making Friends and the Rule of 4

Snow White in Saratov

MAKING FRIENDS

Shortly after my last posting, it had really begun to sink in as to just how far from home and how foreign a land we were living in.  In my mind, I was already sculpting a post titled “Living by Proxy.”  This title would have been a little play on the fact that we are using a proxy server to gain access to all of our American websites.  It had started to feel as if we had just brought America with us.  While we are definitely half way to moon from home and this is most definitely a foreign land, we have begun to see friendly faces and feel more accepted in our neighborhood.

Max, and his mom Olga, were the first sign things were beginning to ease here.  Max is a five year old boy who introduced himself by diving headlong into one of the boy’s running snowball fights.  Culturally, I had really begun to wonder if the snowball fights were a good idea and then this little boy who speaks no English came tearing in and made the world seem right.  Max is another BamBam and could not believe his luck to find a snowball fight and two boys ready to play.  He and Zac quickly decided it was fun to chase Patrick and the whole thing quickly devolved into boys being boys.   Who would have thought our first friends in Russia would have come from a snowball fight? 

Max diving into the snowball fight was very cool, but not nearly as impressive as his mother’s willingness to try and bridge the many gaps between her and I.  Olga speaks about 400 words of English and she just decided to try them with me.  We have since figured out some basic level of communication that allows us to make future plans for the boys, talk about the basics of names and places and universal likes and dislikes.  Between the two of us, our boys all know “Yes/Da” and “No/Nyet.”  “Yes” sounds like “yeace” when Max says it to his mother while she says “Nyet, Maxim!”  The look of pure delight on Max’s face as he ignores his mother in English is worth the trip by itself.

I cannot understate how stunned I was when Max’s mom, Olga, started speaking to me, because her reaching across the bridges of culture and language had not been my Russian experience to that point.  I had started to get used to the stares and the awkward impasses of language barrier and then this young mother started speaking to me out of what seemed like the blue.  Olga speaks about 400 words of English, understands much more, and she just bored right into conversation with me about the boys, America and why we were in Russia.  Somehow, somewhere between words and pointing, Olga and I have managed to communicate enough to allow the boys to have multiple play dates.  Olga even managed to convey how happy she is for Max to have friends that play like he does.  She said life with Max’s energy is hard and, as BamBam’s daddy, I completely understand.

On Monday of this week, Victoria started work as our Au Pair.  She is a very nice young woman who has finished her lower Russian university degree in English.  She will be with us for the duration of our stay and we are so glad to have a person with knowledge of language and culture.  As excited as we are to have her help, she is happy to have the opportunity to speak English on a daily basis.  One immediate benefit of Victoria joining the team is that Olga, Max’s mom, could start bombarding me with questions about life in America.  Victoria also has helped me to understand what the old babushkas are saying to the boys in the park.

In addition to the improved social life, the daily grind of Russian life is also improving.  Where we were once met with near hostility at our local grocery store, we are now offered help to understand how things are done.  An example of this new kindness is buying fruit.  Buying fruit? YES! Buying fruit!  In Russia, the customer must weigh their fruit, type in a code on a machine and then the price label is produced.  Simple enough, right?  Yes, it is if you read Cyrillic, understand the custom and know how to operate the machines.  When we first arrived, there is no chance that the people at our local store would have anticipated or cared about this problem, but they have come around after a week or so of bumbling around the store.  They staff at our main store even asked after the boys on a rare trip for me without them; I took this kind questioning with great relief, because you can imaging the whirlwind we create at the store.

The Rule of 4

We had dinner with Karen’s boss and the only other American businessman known to be living in Saratov.  Mark (Karen’s boss) and Carston (works for Bosch) were both greatly amused as Karen and I relayed our stories of wonderment and whoa from our first week in country.  After a couple of stories, Carston looked at us and stated that we had “to learn and accept the Rule of 4!”

Simply put, it will take four times longer to do anything here in comparison to home.  This ratio is used by Westerners to understand when their product or service will actually be rendered.  According to Mark and Carston, this rule is the one and only truth when it comes to ordering anything, anywhere and at any time in Russia.  Overnight express in America?  You will get it in five days here.  Five minutes to get a drink at a restaurant in the London, it will take twenty here.   This Rule of 4 is so paramount here, Westerners actually tell stories of when the Rule of 4 fails them and they get their products rapidly.  The punch lines of their 

stories are the service being rendered when it was promised. 

This Rule of 4 so permeates the cultural differences here, that I had a good chuckle while filling our reported high end washing machine.   The capacity of the machine here is about a quarter of our monster back home and it takes two and half hours to go through a cycle.  It is a good metaphor for life here, because it is not going to get any faster than the Rule of 4.   That being said, there is nothing with either culture in terms of speed and efficiencies.  I have a myriad of theories as to why each works at their respective speeds, but I find it counterproductive to worry too much about it in the course of the day.  Life is just easier when one accepts the basic tenants of ones surroundings.

RANDOM OBSERVATION OF THE WEEK:

Is actually an American observation this week!  May I ask that those reading this make a point of stopping to help the next person from a foreign land that looks lost? No, I am not getting into any shade of the immigration debate.  I am just asking that you show the same kindness that complete strangers have given to us in Russia.  This kindness has been essential to our survival in Russia as recent, even if temporary, immigrants. I realize this sounds a bit preachy, but I have come to truly understand the challenges all immigrants face crossing borders of language and culture.