A Return To Altai

For the first time ever, the Russian government decided to embrace their independence day by creating a four day weekend.  A four day weekend can only mean one thing...ROAD TRIP!  Having just gone west last month to Yekaterinburg, we decided to go east, to the wilderness of Altai.  I realize that four days isn't much time to work with, but in this case, it was just enough time to be awestruck by the beauty of the mountains in the east.

I had read that there are two cities to choose from when it comes to going east, Barnaul and Bisk; however Barnaul is preferred because it's more modern and the people are nicer.  This opinion has come from Russian tourists as well as travelers before me, so who am I to argue?  On this trip, I had a different travel companion than Gabriella, this time it was Sasha.  This made getting around much easier since he speaks the language.

The bus ride to Barnaul from Novosibirsk is about 4 hours, which isn't bad considering the distance and roads; and on this day summer decided to stop being lazy and finally pay Siberia a visit.  The bus was hot and crowded, but when you're riding high on the travel rush it doesn't seem like such a big deal.  The weather only becomes an issue if the bus breaks down....which of course is what happened.  There are two choices when this happens, you can either wait and hope that the driver can repair the bus or you can hitchhike, which a few fellow passengers opted for.  After waiting and strolling around in a field for about twenty minutes another bus came to offer their assistance.  There.  Problem solved.

My first impressions of Barnaul was good, we were greeted by clean and refurbished buildings, wide streets and only moderate traffic.  Where was the sleepy village I had read about?  Just to be crystal clear, Barnaul is not a village, it's a proper thriving city, which never lets you forget where you are.  On about 90% of the signs, buildings, cafes etc you will read 'Barnaul Gorod (city)' or 'Altaiski Krai' or some other version reminding you that you are in the Altai region of Siberia; never mind the fact that the mountains themselves are still a good 5 hours away.  This humorous fact aside, the bus station was easy to navigate around and then began the hunt for the hotel.  After sitting on a hot bus for hours on end, a walk seemed like a good idea.

Fedorov Hotel-Apartments
We strolled around for about 45 minute looking for the elusive hotel, and I was surprised when we found it, what surprised me what that there wasn't really a clear sign advertising their location of business.  We walked into a dark corridor with a security guard wanting to know what we wanted; needless to say I was bewildered and couldn't quite process where we were so Sasha had to step in.  We then had to climb another flight of stairs and only then did it begin to look like a normal hotel, but the woman had to ask me how much the room cost and how long we would be staying.  Just to restate the obvious, I've been in a many hotels in this country, and never have I encountered such unusual behavior.  Trying to not look like a silly tourist, but failing miserably I told her the price I saw online and asked if she needed to see my passport.  Of course not.  She didn't even give us a receipt.  Strange just doesn't even begin to cover it.  Naturally I was a bit worried about the condition of the room, but happily we were impressed with a very large room complete with air conditioner, robes and slippers.  Perhaps most importantly, the wi-fi worked.  So despite the less than ideal entrance and non-existent service, the room was comfortable and well worth the price.

After cooling off and snacking on the tea and cookies we went exploring around the city.  There's a cute little amusement park where you can see the city by riding a Ferris Wheel, so naturally that's what we did.  Like most cities around the world, especially in Russia, they are gray and sometimes a little underwhelming.  Barnaul proves to be no different in this case.  However, there are a few architectural gems along with statues and flowers which makes any place a little more interesting.  

                                    

The ride from Barnaul was hot and long, but happily uneventful.  No breakdowns this time.  We were greeted with the grassy and green hills of Gorno-Altaisk, which was a much welcome change from the flat and tree covered scenery of Novosibirsk and Barnaul.  

Manzerok

Upon arriving in Gorno-Altaisk we had to hunt for hour hotel which was in a settlement called Manzerok.  This proved to be more challenging than I had anticipated and involved us waiting for two hours for a bus which never came, only to have to take another bus to a town called Chemal and request the driver to stop at the town.  So, for all my fellow travelers who want to see Altai, one word, patience.  Yes, it's rather annoying to have to wait for hours for a bus and then have to walk endless kilometers just to reach your destination, but the pay off is more than worth it.  

                                      

  

After checking into the hotel which did not provide an eatery,slippers, or phone in our room, we had to go hunting for food.  My biggest complaint about this resort is the overall lack of comfort.  Yes, the room is teeny tiny, but nice and yes there's hot water and Wi-Fi; but as I mentioned before they didn't have the advertised cafe, which meant no coffee, tea or water.  Also, there wasn't a proper double bed, just two twin mattresses place together, which I would be willing to forgive if we had been staying in a Soviet style hotel; but we weren't, this was new.  They are still in the process of building so there's no excuse for such a lack of details, especially now that it's tourist season- this is just extreme cheapness.  The perk of the hotel was that we were able to us the ski-lift for free, which is a 350 ruble value (about $10).  We were also advised to invest in a couple of bandannas since the sun was blazing, which we accepted.  

About a week before the Altai region had received record breaking rainfall and had caused some damage to the towns in the area.  The result of all this rain meant fewer tourists and unbelievably lush green forests and mountains.  There's no way a camera or even a paintbrush capture such beauty, but we can't say that people don't try.   

After touring the top of the ski-lift and taking in the beauty of the area, we descended back down the mountain and decided to book a tour which would take us to a cave and an apiary.  The apiary was the highlight for me since I had never been to one before.  Yes, the cave was also quite impressive and fun, not to mention a serious workout for my legs, but the apiary was educational and relaxing.  Despite the intense heat, the valley where the small honey farm was located offered a small sanctuary from the sun.  The buzzing of the bees was quite calming and soothing, and yes, Altai does live up to its reputation of having the best honey in the world.  While I can't honestly say that I've had honey from every place on the planet, there were multiple declarations of this inscribed on the walls in various languages including Arabic and Japanese.   

  

Overall, the trip was marvelous.  Nature, friendly people and warm weather.  What more could a person ask for?  Well, perhaps a cup of fresh coffee.    

                                               

 

The comfort of Yekaterinburg

So another birthday has come and gone.  So much has happened, and yet it still feels like a dream.  May 1-5 Gabi and I went to Yekaterinburg, which was amazing…perhaps I’ll start with that.

Sasha escorted me to the train station, and no trip is complete without journey juice, this time it was vodka with lemons and sugar.  For some reason, we, as in Sasha, Gabi and even I were a bit more nervous than usual; however the moment we were on the platform I felt it.  The big IT that I love almost as much as I love life itself, the sensation that comes with every new adventure.  My blood starts pumping, and I can’t stop smiling, the thrill of just knowing and not knowing what the near future may bring.  For lack of a better word, it’s like a hit.  A big hit of the travel drug. 

The train ride itself was fairly uneventful.  I got some much needed sleep, day dreamed and stared out of the window as we left Siberia behind and entered the Ural region.  Landscape wise, we couldn’t tell one tree from another.  Just in case we all forgot, Russia is a vast forest, and it’s rather difficult to tell the difference at times.  Anyway, upon arriving in Yekat (that’s the short name and it’s what I’m going to call it from here on out) we were greeted with fairly warm weather.  Happily, for once I had the foresight to obtain a local taxi number and arranged to have a taxi waiting for us once we arrived.  After the mishaps in Tomsk and Krasnoyarsk when it comes to hoping for the best when it comes to arriving late, I just wanted to save my nerves and grief and wanted to avoid a problem. 

The hotel was impressive and they didn’t mislead us when they advertised that they were located in the center of the city, it really is.  And they were quite friendly, and even though they didn’t speak English, it wasn’t a problem.  Our room looked exactly like the pictures on the website, which was even better, overall, so far, so good. 

Our first real day in Yekat was cloudy yet warm so we went to Храм на Крови – Church of Spilled Blood where the Romanov’s were killed.  Such places really get to me, and I don’t like them, I can feel the energy and sorrow and it kills my mood.  However, this trip was not about me, it was about seeing the city and making sure that Gabi and I got to see what we both wanted.  To be fair, the inside of the church is quite beautiful.  Yes, of course you need to cover your head, and yes, you can’t talk or sit or take pictures, but really, would you really want to?  After spending quite a long time at this location, we were in need of warmth and coffee. 

One problem we can never seem to avoid is finding coffee.  I even had a fancy new smartphone and it was still a problem.  It’s never a good sign when we start snapping at each other about which brand of water is better or the correct way to describe the color of the grey sky.  During the endless hunt for a coffee shop, we found ourselves in the midst of a marathon, or at least what looked like a marathon.  On a good day we wouldn’t have minded, but since we were still a little tired from the train and caffeine deprived, we weren’t in the mood to deal with people running in jeans or even sandals and calling it a marathon.  But since I can only run after a bus or a cat, I’ll let that slide.

At some point we came across a coffee place and were much happier.  The universe was allowed to continue.  Along the way we were impressed with the modern architecture and overall showing of wealth.  One of the impressive things about the city are the wide streets and cream colored buildings.  It gives the city an air of wealth and for lack of a better word, European.  I’m not a huge fan of European architecture, but I can appreciate the finer details of statues and crown molding. Architecture aside, the people were friendly and patient with our less than perfect Russian.  The Urals yield some amazing stones, such as amethyst, magnetite and various colors of quartz, and the people seem to be quite proud of it.  Magnetite is by far the most stunning; the dark yet bright green color offers the eye something different from the standard gold and silver variety.  After strolling around the Romanov Death Site, the Church of Spilled Blood, the city center and endless streets and alleys; needless to say, we were exhausted.  The only way to remedy the situation was to take up our hotel on their offer of using the sauna, compete with steam room and cold water pool.  It was perfect, just what we needed.  After an hour of breathing in the lavender and pine scents, then jumping in the cold water, just to run back to the steam room; we felt rejuvenated. 

Then came time to make the big decision, which night club to check out?  A few people had recommended a place called Chili which was within walking distance from the hotel, but the hotel staff recommended a place called Agave which was a resto-club.  Such places really make me crazy: you should either dance and then eat, or eat and then go dancing, not both.  A dance club is meant for dancing, not for eating salad.  But somehow I got talked into going to this place. 

We arrived at around midnight, and were surprised that there weren’t more people there; it was a Friday night after all. Slight disappointment aside, the interior was spacious and unusual, the best room where we spent most of the night, was a mix of American and African decorations.  The music was intoxicating, I can’t remember the last time I heard such a great mix of dance and lounge music.  I would suggest this for the simple fact of great music, but not good for dancing.  At four in the morning we finally managed to crawl back to our hotel.  So I can't say it was all bad, after all, we almost saw the sunrise.  Almost.

After a few precious hours of sleep, we were up once again and were greeted by a bright sky and warm weather.  It was the perfect day to see the monument which separates Asia and Europe.  We had to take a taxi out there, which was huge disappointment to me since it’s a tourist place and tourism means public transport.  The perk of a taxi was that we were able to nap for another thirty minutes.  The monument was nice.  What can I say about it?  It was excited to see it, but dismayed that there wasn’t more to it; we did take a taxi out there after all.  I was pouting about having to pay for another taxi when a man overheard me asking the manager of the small store which sells instant coffee to use his phone so I could order another taxi.  He then asked me where I was going, and not really sure how to answer, I said the one place that Gabi and I had casually discussed.  He offered to take us back to the city free of charge.  Trusting my sixth sense, I agreed then told him that I had to tell Gabi that we’d be hitching a ride.  Naturally, she was a little less than enthusiastic about this idea, but didn’t have much of a choice.  Further discussion revealed that he was the accountant of the monument and had live in the city for his whole life and was more than happy to show around the two foreign girls.  We learned that Yekaterinburg is home to making tanks, and mining.  Mining was obvious, but tanks?  Not so much.  He then drove us to Boris Yeltsin’s monument and dropped us off at a photo museum.  Thus proving people can still surprise you by random acts of kindness and generosity.

The museum which Gabi wanted to see was filled with black and white photos about life in the rural countryside.  After another exhausting day of urban hiking and picture taking, we decided to take a load off in a mall.  I was pleasantly impressed with the discovery of Stockman, an import store which specializes in products form Europe and America, namely fun stuff such as maple syrup and ranch dressing. 

Our last night in Yekaterinburg was spent in an Italian restaurant sipping wine and relishing in the comfort of the experience overall.  It’s not often that a person can feel so comfortable or at home in a foreign city, but I have to admit, it’s easy to fall in love with this place.  It’s a nice mix of the hustle and bustle of Moscow, but without the prices or attitude.             

Rose Colored Vodka Glasses Part 1

It's been brought to my attention that my previous posts are too negative.  This was not my intent, just the opposite; truth be told, Russia has really gotten under my skin.  Yes, I complain and make jokes about Russia, but doesn't everyone make jokes and complain about things in their lives?  How many conversations begin with complaints about the weather or the price of milk? So, without further adu, I present a short but hopefully optimistic list about things I like about Russia:

1)  I love the fact that people can linger on the streets and drink beer.  There's no better way to spend a warm evening then sitting outside and laughing with friends and enjoying a brewed beverage.

2)  I love that women are allowed to be women here, as in they are encouraged to get their hair and nails done without being judged by their girlfriends.  It's such a strange paradox with American women about having their hair or nails done.  It's encourgaged but at the same time, looked down upon.  A girl with manicured nails is automatically catagorizd as either a rich girl or a bitch.  It's silly that women have to justify the simple fact that it's quite pleasent to have a manicure done.  

3)  You are allowed to show your emotions.  If you don't want to talk to someone, you don't have to.  If someone is being rude, it's okay to tell them.  In a bad mood?  It's cool, embrace it.  You're even allowed to simply ignore people.  This never ceases to impress me.  There is a real talent for not giving someone the time of day.  Just yesterday I was at the bus stop and this tall, slightly dirty man was desperately trying to talk to a young guy who just couldn't be bothered with even turning his head to give the guy the time of day.  Many times when I even glance at the person trying to talk to me, I find myself having a silly conversation about parsley or snow or something even more pointless- all because I haven't perfected the art of ignoring people.  Russian women are the true masters of evading unwanted conversations.  I can't even count the times I've seen women pretty much surround themselves in a bubble of silence.  

4)  Any occasion is an occasion for flowers.  It doesn't have to be a birthday or holiday or even an apology gift, flowers are supposed to be given to ladies at random intervals.  Flowers are a serious business here, you can't even throw a rock without hitting a flower stand.

5)  Public transport.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, public transport is simply amazing.  Did you miss your bus?  No problem, just wait five minutes for another one.  Not enough room?  Just push your way on.  If there isn't a bus, there's always a marshrutka.  Marshrutkas along with marshrutka drivers deserve a daily prize.  They can somehow drive, text, take money, shout at other drivers at the same time.  Not to forget their incredible maneuvering capabilities on the sometimes less than ideal roads; pot holes, traffic, daring pedestrian and flying debris which finds itself on the roads.  I once saw a table just sitting in the middle of the road.

6) Lack of political correctness.  I know this sounds like an insult, but hear me out.  If we compare a few things that Americans are always worried about.  Since it's Easter season, let's start with that.  In Russia, on Easter everyone says  Христос Воскрес!  Christ is risen.  We all know that in the states you can't just run around saying this because chances are you're going to piss off a lot of people.  In Russia, no one cares; they don't see it as a glorification of religion, they see it as a holiday and something nice to say.  The same goes for Happy Woman's Day or Happy Victory Day.  If you say that you don't celebrate this, they will simply shrug their shoulders and go about their business.

Just to expand on this a bit, the same idea goes for school subjects such as biology, namely the fun topic of evolution.  Evolution is grounded in science and therefore considered a fact and that's how they teach it in school.  If you want something more spiritual or if you don't like it, ask your parents, but don't bring it up in school.  This seems, well, really quite logical.  Many people have asked me why there are court cases about the teaching of evolution.  Truth is, I don't know how to answer this. Do I go with 'religious rights' speech or the 'separation of Church and State' OR 'God snapped his fingers and here we are and not everyone agrees' speech?  

I have to admit, it's refreshing not having to censor or be in constant check about simple things such as holidays and people's professions.

7) The famed Russian Hospitality.  If you're ever invited over for dinner, or better still, invited to a dacha, you had better arrive starving and be prepared to sit and eat and drink for hours.  I don't simply mean beer or vodka, be ready to consume vast quantities of tea and or coffee.  While it's true that Russian food can still be a bit on the bland side for me (I was raised on green chili and red peppers) it doesn't mean that the meat isn't tender or the vegetables aren't fresh and mouthwatering.  Guests are treated to an endless supply of salads and meat dishes, not to mention an endless assortment of sweets and cakes.  
     

Sweet Nostalgia

Aw, Russia. How will I be able to cope with eating in a restaurant that won’t cost me an arm and a leg and I won’t be hungry afterward?   Where will the fun be when it comes to trying to buy shoes and only being served with the right shoe?  Or trying to go to the pool and won’t be hassled about the ‘health certificate’ or needing a meaningless swimming cap?

Speaking of swimming, in honor of my blog, I feel the need to readdress the swimming pool.  Due to my ever changing work schedule I had to let my toe pass expire, my toe pass is of course the health certificate people need in order to swim.  For my new readers, the ‘health certificate’ is deemed medically necessary before you can swim.  For the low price of 250 rubles ($7) you have to take off your shoes and socks and jacket (because heaven forbid anyone wear a jacket indoors) and show a doctor your feet, just to make sure you don’t have any funky foot fungus or anything.  Sure, this sounds all well and good, only the doctor is an old woman who can’t be bothered with standing up, let alone actually performing a real inspection.  Let me walk you through this: 1) take off socks and shoes before you enter the office 2) give her the receipt 3) at this point she will sigh heavily and put down her newspaper and glance in your direction and, then glance at your feet and then sign the small piece of paper.  Then you thank her for some crazy reason and put your shoes back on.  The whole experience takes less than one minute and you can’t help but feel ripped off and annoyed, what is the real point of that?  Would she even notice a foot condition if she even saw one?

After receiving my overpriced document I proceeded to the pool.  Happily it wasn’t too crowded, and the babushka population wasn’t as high as normal.  There’s nothing more annoying than trying to do laps around old women who are terrified of getting their hair wet because of the fear of ‘getting sick’.  If you’re that worried about it, then why are you here?  I’d much rather deal with kids splashing and screaming, but I cannot actually remember the last time I saw children at the pool.  Happily, the past few times I’ve gone to the pool I haven’t been lectured or pissed anyone off for no clear reason.  Perhaps this is because I’ve managed to blend in well enough so no one knows I’m American, which is a bit of a backhanded compliment. 

Addressing a topic I glossed over a paragraph ago, a subject which never gets old; the timeless experience of eating out.  Buffets are a dime a dozen here, but they aren’t quite the same as we are used to, you can order what you want, but someone else serves it, so it’s rather good portion control, however, what you get or pick is a gamble.  After months of overcooked buckwheat, over salted rice and over boiled pasta I had all but given up on the idea of lunch.  But then I found this amazing little place called ‘Soup Café’.  You can’t say there is any lack of imagination here.  I was so happy, a place which served not only soup which was hot, not lukewarm, but genuinely hot; but they also served unique soup, not just veggie broth and questionable borsht.  I was delighted to have pumpkin soup, along with spinach soup; but then, like all things, it came to an end.  They’ve been in ‘renovation’ and ‘revamping’ mode for months now.  Figures.  So I found myself depressed and without a place to unwind; so I had taken to just wandering around aimlessly either killing time before or after a class.  On Thursday I had more time to kill than I had anticipated so I dared to try a ‘stolovaya’ again (buffet/ cafeteria).  I was welcomed by the aroma of……boiled things!  Yea!  I spotted this questionable meat and vegetable dish and when I inquired as to what it was, I was told that it was pork with mayo and pickles.  Only in Russia would that seem like a totally normal combination.  Pork.  Mayonnaise.  Pickles.  That’s about three food groups right there!  I felt like walking on the wild side, so I tried it; after all, what kind of person would I be if I just criticized something without trying it?  I have to admit, it wasn’t terrible.  It wasn’t great, but it was edible.  

Changing the topic, I’ve forgotten to address the nightlife in this fair city.  Every city can try to boast about a great nightlife, but nothing puzzles me more than when it’s 3am on a Tuesday and I will see hoards of people wandering around or driving around.  Seriously, where is everyone going!?  Chances are, they either going home or club hopping.  I’ve never fully adapted to the idea of leaving my house at midnight because nothing cool is happening until one in the morning.  It doesn’t matter where you are: Moscow, St. Petersburg, Novosibirsk, Tomsk, Krasnoyarsk, etc the part doesn’t get started until midnight.  And then party really gets in full swing between the hours of 2am and 5am.  When Gabi and I were in Krasnoyarsk, she had made reservations for us at a club called Koloradiski Papa, and when we arrived at 12:30 the place was just beginning to fill up.  There are a few guidelines when it comes to Russian night clubs:

1)      Dress to impress (if you’re a girl, if you’re a guy, it’s totally cool to look as if you just rolled out of bed or got hit by a garbage truck)

2)      Be prepared for a long of drinking. Shots are a common thing, but it’s more common to order a shot, then some juice and sip on both. 

3)      Be prepared to eat.  Russians are the biggest fans of snacking on pickles, pickled mushrooms and or croutons (syharniki)

4)      Don’t try and be cool and freak dance, everyone will think you are strange

Overall, clubs are clubs.  Loud music, too much cigarette smoke, overpriced alcohol…wait…loud music.  In any given night, in any given Russian club you can hear: American pop music, this isn’t a surprise but it can get annoying, we are in Russia after all, but then there’s OLD American music, I’m talking Elvis, but perhaps I should use a better adjective such as classic or timeless.  It’s just a bit much to handle when you’ve been dancing your heart out to LMFAO and then hear Elvis.  Following Elvis, you’ll hear some Michael Jackson, then just for good measure, the theme to Super Mario Brothers.  Yes, the game soundtrack to Super Mario.  And if that isn’t confusing enough, they will mix in folk Russian music, which is a nice change but considering everything you just heard prior…well, after a while, you just go with it.  Then they will top it off with a good dose of Russian rap.  This is why people drink so much.  It’s as if the DJ were having a musical seizure or major ear spasm. 

Crocs and Socks

Hello dear blog.  How have you been?  Once again I have been stuck and run out of things to talk about, even though there have been things which should probably be addressed such as the reaction and at times over reaction to political games currently being played.  I would rather not 'go there' so I won't.  Instead I think I will try and sort out my thought about my rapidly approaching departure date.  It really occurred to me as I was ordering a coffee for Gabi and running out to meet my cab that 1) I actually speak another language and 2) holy cow Batman, I'm actually going to miss going on these crazy errands for my friend in just a few months.  As I sat in the cab and took in the grey and shabby-looking buildings around the city; I think I will actually really miss this place.  It's funny how these things can get under your skin, like a favorite T-shirt that has seen one too many things spilled on it but for some reason you can't bear to part with it until absolutely necessary.  Will I miss the ridiculously icy streets?  No.  No I will not.  But I will miss the best coffee place in the city.  I will even miss the epic adventures of shopping.

There are a few things which still continue to amuse me in Russia, one of them is shopping.  These are a few observations which continue to baffle me:

1) Why do sales assistance wear slippers of Crocs in stores?  Not only is this a fashion insult and unsightly, it's just unhygienic. Wearing socks and ugly shoes in any clothing or shoe store just doesn't make sense.  And speaking of shoes, why only bring one shoe?  Let me defend myself by saying that even though I'm a girl, I hate shopping.  At times I find it physically painful so it's really ironic that I'm always in need of shoes because I have a twisted leg and burn through shoes as fast as a Hummer burns gas.  Happily I have found an affordable shop, but the curious thing about the Crocs and socks.  On top of that, when I want to try on something, they only bring one shoe.  Again, why?  I can almost understand them not wanting to make a double trip, but that idea quickly loses water if the shoe fits and they have to go back anyway for the left.  Or even if it doesn't it, they still have to take it back, so by only bringing one shoe they are in fact doing twice as much work.  It's not just this one store either.  It's in about every four stores I go into.

Perhaps people think either Crocs are just that fashionable or comfortable or cheap; but this doesn't really explain their appearance in hospitals and other medial offices.  I was visiting a friend who had an operation and naturally had to take her some edible food and was surprised, but not really that surprised to see nurses and doctors running around in Crocs and socks.  Again.  Did I miss something?  Are they now considered sanitary?  Since when are uncovered feet considered hygienic?  I don't remember who pointed it out first, me or her, but she said she was trying her best to ignore the less than ideal conditions around her.  Since they did save her life, we can't judge them too harshly, which is why I'm only going to criticize their choice in footwear and perhaps drop an unsolicited comment about smoking in the hallways.  She told me that she tried to inquire about it, and they said that it was better than regular shoes since they only wear them inside.  Right.  Unless you're a smoker and then it's absolutely fine wear them outside, and then come back inside.  Yet visitors have to wear blue plastic bags over their shoes to keep out germs.  I'm sure there's a logical line in there somewhere, but I'm just not sure where.  

Where else can one find Crocs and Socks?  Now it's like a game, almost like Where's Waldo; in the markets of course!  Vendors in the flea market of course.  It doesn't matter if they're selling fruit or clothes, you can be assured that they will be wearing this super sexy combination.  There's nothing like getting fashion advice from a woman dressed in a tattered tracksuit and Crocs to make you feel good about yourself.

Crocs are not just limited to hospitals, stores and the general indoors, no, they have gone where no Crocs should have gone, outdoors.  Not just to gardens, which of course is totally fine; but to construction sites.  They are building a Marriott in the center of Novosibirsk, and last summer I saw countless numbers of construction works mixing concrete, cutting wood and assembling various things without shirts and sporting these less than safe Crocs.  It's no wonder the streets are so bad in Russia, if they were built by workers wearing flimsy sandals there's no way they could get the materials hot enough to adhere properly.  I can't help but wonder what OSHA would think about the whole thing.  Does Marriott know about the less the ideal building process?  It should be mentioned that the sidewalk which they were laboring on last summer is already cracked and the tiles are coming up for air.  I can't imagine why.

These observations amuse me and yes, I will miss them.  I'm sure as July approaches I'll find more things to either rant or rave about, but until then, I'll have to make due with Crocs and Socks.

      

Show some Love for the Olympics

There are a few questions people continually ask me which never get old: 1) Do you like Russian vodka? 2) Do you like our Russian snow? 3) Do you like Russian people? 4) Russia is a bad country, yes?

This blog post is going to address the last question, is Russia a bad country?  How does one even begin to answer that?  After spending a day shopping and dealing with nonsensical people from time to time, I do have my moments of severe annoyance but I can’t in an honest answer say that this is a bad country.  Does it bug the crap out of me that people insist on putting plastic things over their shoes because janitors don't know how to do their jobs and clean the floor, thus making it quite challenging for you walk?  Yes.  Does it take all of my restraint to stop from strangling the cashier who can't be bothered with putting my groceries in the bag even though that's what's she's there for?  You bet.  And does it take Buddha-like patience when it comes to dealing with the post office?  Absolutely.  These annoyance are more cultural than anything, and if these things didn't bother me, I'm sure something else would.  There are people all over the world who are lazy and don't feel like doing the job for which they were hired.  Does this mean that the whole world is bad?  Think long and hard before answering that, because we can always find something worth smiling about and something which bring us a little joy.  Therefore, no Russia isn't exactly the Wild West or Wild East if you will; if it were, then there wouldn’t be so many immigrants here.  There wouldn’t be so much Hollywood and intrigue.  My personal belief is that Russia is a victim of their own stereotypes and preconceived notions about what foreigners think about them. 

Case in point is the Olympics.  Was there corruption?  Well, you can’t break the world budget without a little income on the side.  Was there massive grumbling and complaining the need to take the torch into space and under Baikal?  Absolutely.  Just to play the devil’s advocate, when was the last time anyone thought about doing something that extreme?  I think the other countries were just jealous that they didn’t think of it first.  Despite the enormous financial burden that was imposed on the people of the world’s largest country, there was genuine excitement in the air when the Olympic flame came through the humble city of Novosibirsk. 

Then came the day of the opening ceremony in Sochi.  Yes, I like so many others read the posts by the reports who were speaking ill of Russian hotels: no water, no floors, questionable beds etc.  But then, the Games opened and the world was silenced for a whole hour as Russia presented their best ballet dancers, singers and unique creativity for the whole world to see.  Let’s be honest, the media were holding their breath and just hoping that something would go wrong; and to be truthfully, perhaps a fair amount of native people were also thinking that.  Happily nothing of the sort happened.  Only one lighting thing didn’t work and you would think that an entire building had collapsed.  Seriously people, you’re going to ignore the mind-blowing choreography and pure exquisiteness of the show over a few light bulbs? 

Where does all of this bad press come from?  Decades of propaganda from the faceless people who tell us that we should be scared of everything un-American?  This is an easy answer.  After all, these were the same faceless people who told us smoking was fine, and then changed their minds.  Gay people are evil and corrupt and then changed their minds.  Genetically altering foods will save the world, and are now having to explain why people are unnaturally aggressive and developing cancer at an alarming rate.  Propaganda is the mechanism which makes the world go round, and over generalizations are loosely, and I mean loosely based on facts; but still, at some point people really begin to believe their own propaganda.  For decades it was East vs West and it can be argued that it still is that way.  It’s funny how quickly everyone forgets their history or glosses over ‘the bad stuff’.  The West is not some fairy-tale land were people just ride around in BMW’s and eat fast food (well, perhaps in LA they do) but that’s just not how it is.  And the East is not a place where bears roam the street and the mafia drives around in black cars.  It hasn’t been that way since the late 90’s.  Everyone knows that, except for perhaps the people reporting the news. 

Returning to the topic at hand, so yes, after years of being told that the West is a land of puppies and unicorns, and sometimes even flying cars which run on tea; people at some point in time began to believe it.  Then on the flip side, once all of the political and imaginary boundaries were open, there came the flood of images of the Evil Empire.  And then everyone believed it.  I’m trying to recall what I was taught in school, because it was very different than what my mother was taught.  I never had to learn what to do in case of a nuclear attack, yes, I’m sure all my well-read readers will roll their eyes at me; but let’s face it, how else do you calm a population with such awful weapons?  We’ve sure come a long way since the days of hiding under desks and political discord; instead we fight cultural wars via Buzzfeed and Fox and other nonsensical media outlets. 

Tragically yes, people do start to believe in their own cultural propaganda and adapt to facts that perhaps you weren’t aware of.  For example, Vladimir Putin wrote a letter to the New York Times warning Americans not to be so egotistical, which is totally pot calling the kettle black.  Doesn’t every country want to be great?  Isn’t that the point of establishing boundaries and boarders, to stick out your tongue and declare that you are the best?  If sticking your tongue out doesn’t work, you could always invest in a chemical weapon or two, which generally catches a little more attention.  Speaking of pots and kettles, isn’t it funny that not even China received as much ridicule or scrutiny the way Russia has?  It’s not right and it’s not fair.  The moral of the story is this: Не та́к страшен чëрт, как его́ малю́ют (the devil is not as black as he is painted).  Russia not the evil empire, nor is it exactly paradise.  Tell me a place that is without problems and I will be quiet and apologize.  Until then, the press just need to remember that they are supposed to be objective and not to over exploit problems which aren't even problems.  We all just need to take a minute to take a breath and relax.  After all, they are hosting a fairly important international sport competition and at the end of the day, we are all guests in this huge country, and the last time I checked, it wasn’t exactly polite to constantly insult your host.  

Attack of the Clichés!

Siberia is cold.  It’s cold in Siberia.  Thank you very much Sherlock.  I hate it when things people often say because there’s nothing else to be said turn out to be true.  So yes, I will finally have to admit that it’s below zero and quite cold outside.  Yes, people have to actually wear fur to stay warm, both real and fake, although thanks to the wonders of modern science and animal rights groups one has to really question if fur and leather are really superior to cotton and polyurethane and other synthetic materials.  And alas, even hats.  Those wool, jewel encrusted fashionable hats that every woman, except for me can wear.  I have to admit, the Russian people really know how to bundle up in style.  In Colorado one simply applies two or three shirts of various thickness and colors, coordinating hat and scarf and viola, you are set.  Not to mention the flat boots, fluffy coat and sometimes mismatched glove; it doesn’t really matter since you’re going out to your car which will be nice and warm and won’t have to worry about spending outside in the cold.  Obviously, if you’re going to be outside for hours on end, you put on a matching ski-suit and all your fashion problems are solved. 

However, here in Mother Russia, or Siberia to be exact, fashion requires a bit more thought and consideration.  For example, if there is a lot of ice a girl can get away with wearing a spike heel with the idea of actually chiseling the ice, which actually works.  However, if the ice is covered in snow, this is a bad idea due to friction and the lady in question must lower the heel either to a wedge or flat surface.  Men on the other hand only have to worry about how much fur or fleece they need on the inside of their shoes.  The only thing that really matters to the men is if their shoes are clean or not.  Rain or shine, ice or snow, shoes must always be clean. 

Moving up from the shoes, there’s the issue of tights or long underwear.  Clearly, mean wear long underwear and not tights even though the same word is used in the Russian language.  The humor about super heroes running around in tights is beyond them. Anyway, this is where the fun really begins for Russian ladies; the variety of thickness and design of tights is simply overwhelming.  It’s quite a pity that more people don’t take the time to consider their leg wear more often; it can be an interesting experience to say the least. 

Then there’s the endless selection of sweaters.  For some unknown reason, all questionable designs and patterns which have been rejected by Europe, parts of Asia and all fashionable civilization wind up here in Russia.  We’re talking pea green mixed with orange flowers, diamond shapes in hues of burgundy and teal and horizontal stripes of yellow, Pepto pink and sea green all demanding your attention.  It’s as if a child labor force rebelled and sent a giant finger to Russia.  Sadly, most of the men think this is normal and the women do nothing to correct this huge injustice to their men.  Dear men, please stop wearing sweaters which make you look like douchebags, pedophiles or rapists.  The serial killer look went out in the mid-eighties.

Last but certainly not least are the coats.  It’s a coat wonderland.  Do you want a purple coat with a red hood?  Done.  How about a black knee length coat with lace and sparkles?  Done.  For the men, how about a military camouflage overcoat complete with fake badge and serial number?  Done and done!   

For all these reasons, there’s the cliché about Russian women being beautiful and Russian men looking like…well, looking like crap.  It’s not really their fault.  Women are still treated like dolls and manly men are afraid of being called ‘gay’ so they go the extreme opposite way and dress like actors who escaped from the 1970’s.      

The cliché about everyone being drunk:

Everyone drinks.  There’s a bit of bi-polar disorder when it comes to drinking; something like, “no, I don’t drink, but on New Year, all Russians drink too much vodka.  Or on birthdays.  Or in night clubs…”  and my favorite “drinking isn’t healthy.”  As if this answers the question about whether or not people like to drink socially or not.  Either way, every country had a love/ hate relationship with alcohol.  In America it’s a strange paradox, somewhere between ‘drinking is evil’ and ‘PARTY!’  Here, in Russia, it’s very similar.  The big difference is food.  For Americans drinking is a sport, or in some cases a mission.  If we’re going to a bar, we’re going to drink and play pool, we can’t be bothered with eating a salad covered in mayo nor can we bother with dinner.  Please.  It’s Saturday night, it’s time to drink and dance.  There shall be no food served!  Food can only be consumed after two in the morning.  Thus a typical night at a night club consists of shots, chased by beer, followed by a mixed drink or two.  The more the merrier. 

In a Russian night club you are expected to sit at a table, order snacks which are usually pickles, tomatoes, some unknown meat thing and if you’re really lucky, questionable salad which is really just a heart attack waiting to happen.  Then you only do shots of vodka, whisky or beer.  That’s it.  Mixing is frowned on and considered dangerous- and then you dance.  Then you drink and eat and dance some more.  The major advantage of partying in Russia is that nothing ever closes.  You can keep drinking until the sun comes up, which as it happens, people do.  There’s also the nice loophole about being able to drink in public.  I have to admit, there is a great and liberating freedom about drinking a beer in the park with your friends, or drinking on the subway or bus.  On a serious note, in parts of the city and country the government has been trying to curb this enthusiasm for drinking in public and has been trying to ban people from doing it, by issuing fines and tickets.  Most of the time you can sweet talk your way out of it, or offer a bribe.  Who doesn’t love a little corruption every now and then?   

Hat Police in Siberia

There are few articles of clothing which I throughly dislike: hats and scarves.  I have more less made my peace with scarves simply because they are pretty and very trendy at the moment, but hats....no, I can't say that about hats.  Hats look fashionable on everyone else except me, I either resemble a 12 year old boy or a criminal, and that's just not a look I'm going for.  Happily, there are wonderful things called hoods which are the best of both worlds and I can deal with these.  Besides, this winter in Siberia has been surprisingly warm, or mild, it's been around 20-30F degrees for months, which is a nice change from 2013 when it was -10F for months on end.  

Since it has been so warm I haven't felt the need to invest in purchasing a much needed pair of gloves or hat simply because it's not cold enough for me to require these articles of clothing.  I'm fairly hot blooded and I like to feel the weather, that mixed with mild claustrophobia demands that I can't wear more than two layers of clothing.  My philosophy is simple, if I'm not cold, I don't need to bundle up like a marshmallow. 

On New Year's Day we (a big group of people whose names aren't super important) were sharing a table with another group of people who were curious as to why I wasn't a hat and Gabriella wasn't wearing pants.  She was wearing two pairs of tights and a wool skirt, again, keeping in mind it was only -8C (17F) and no wind, neither of us were cold, plus, hello, winter coats!  I can’t decide if it’s because they are really concerned or they are just curious.  Their curiosity becomes instantly hostile when I tell them that I’m not cold.  Somehow me not being cold has insulted them and their ancestors.  I am then peppered with the usual ‘where are you from?  Oh America?  America doesn’t have these temperatures, do they?’ At which point I roll my eyes, or sigh heavily or lose my temper and all but call them idiots.  If we had been standing in sub-zero temperatures of course my attitude would have been different.  In case the world forgot, America just suffered a Polar Vortex, Siberia is like a tropical paradise at the moment.  

Since it was New Year's Day, we were drinking and they were drinking and the thing about drinking with strangers is that you never really know what they are giving you and you can't be sure that you won't quite say the wrong thing.  I am the master of putting my foot in my mouth, so giving toasts in Russian still makes me nervous, even after all this time because Russians are the masters of glaring.  Seriously, they never hide the fact that they don't like you which is admirable if you think about it.  They don't have to go around pretending to like people if they don't, they can just glare or better yet, not say a single word.  Alas, within 30 seconds I had made three Russian strangers hate me because I wasn't cold and wasn't going to apologize for it and 'I didn't have a Russian soul'.  It took Gabriella 30 seconds longer, one whole minute to convince them that she had a Russian soul AND she was one thousand times cooler than I was.  One minute.  I think this is because she is chattier than I am and speaks Russian with a flare that I don’t possess.  She knows more street slang and rougher words than I do, plus she’s blond and English which makes her more appealing than me. 

Maria (I'm pretty sure this was her name) first decided that I was a terrible person because I wasn’t wearing a hat and drinking rum.  Gabi on the other hand is total vodka drinker and happily accepted the drink which was offered to her.  My liver and kidneys were thanking me for sticking to my ‘no vodka’ policy.  At the end of the day alcohol is alcohol, so who cares what it is?  Apparently she cared, as did her three older male companions.  Seeing as how I couldn’t keep up with the nonsensical conversation about snow and ice, I zoned out and began studying the detail of the wooden bear which was carved.  Gabi snapped me out of my zone by inviting me to frolic in the snow, which honestly took some coaxing, if I’m not being perused by a monster or babushka, I see no point in running around for no reason; but alas she succeeded and it was fun.  We decided that snow covered cars needs some hand prints and smiley faces, and being the terrible vandals that we are, decided to take pictures of our endeavors.   

Funnily enough, I'm not even sure why I cared so much about what these people thought.  It's not as though I'll be seeing them again anytime soon.  Perhaps at times I do try and consider myself as an ambassador, desperately trying to break the stereotypes that Americans are fat, lazy and stupid and I feel terrible for no clear reason if people continue to believe this.  

Returning to the topic about hats, such situations are not uncommon for me.  Paradoxically, girls can wear hats and micro-mini skirts in similar weather conditions and this is considered normal.  A hat is a magical device which protects you from...the cold?  Sneezing and coughing on people doesn't cause illness, not wearing a hat causes illness.