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Letters from Russia
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These letters were written by my friend, Ken Taft (Denver, USA) who arrived to
Russia with the prospect of staying in St. Petersburg for one year as a teacher
of English language. I find them both sincere and precious as they describe so
well how it feels in the beginning as well as provide useful information for
those who have plans to move to Russia for a certain period of time.
If you find the very first letters discouraging I would like to add one simple
fact: after the first year Ken decided to stay here for the second one. His
approach is that choosing between USA and Russia for living in the nearest 5
years, Russia seems much more inspiring...
Sincerely yours,
Tatiana
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Letters from Russia:
Letters from Russia (Part 2)
Letters from Russia (Part 3)
Letters from Russia (Part 4)
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Letter 1: First few days here in Russia
Previet! (pronounced pree-vee-et)
My flight to Russia was quite uneventful. Nothing really interesting happened until
we landed in St. Petersburg. Looking out the window as we were landing, I could somehow
tell it was ungodly cold out there. We touched down and pulled up to the gate. There
were no other planes around and most of the lights seemed to be turned off in the buildings.
As soon as the fasten seat belt sign turned off, eveyone stood up and put on their coats,
hats and gloves. I found this peculiar since we were going into the airport. I looked out
the plane window to see if maybe we were going to take a transport bus to another gate.
This I could understand would require putting on coats and hats. I wasn't sure what was
going on so I followed the golden rule: When in Russia, do as the Russians. I put on my
coat, walked off the plane into the gate tunnel to the terminal. I was expecting a rush
of warm air upon entering the building but it seemed they found it completely unnecessary
to heat the airport. I could see my breath walking down the terminal walkway. I also knew
that it was still about 30* warmer inside than it was outside. The outside temperature was
-15F and windy. I nervously made my way through passport control and customs hoping I would
not have to go through any unnecessary disrobing, searches and pat-downs. Finally I saw
Tatiana and Sergey and knew that everything would be fine. They took me in their little
Russian "Lada" to my new apartment. Up to this moment, I had not seen pictures of it and
wasn't quite sure what to expect. I've been in Russian flats before so I had a general idea.
My apartment is on the 6th floor of an 8 floor building on Vasilievsky Island. It was built
in the 60's and I can honestly say has not been updated since. As I walked in, I thought:
"Uh oh, maybe I made a mistake." It reminds me of some of the decrepit little apartments I
lived in while in college. The difference is that this one is clean and warm and there are no
hungover roommates still refusing to wash their dishes from last week. It has nice big windows
overlooking a courtyard/playground, herringbone wood floors and the world's loudest toilet.
My bed is not so comfortable, kind of like sleeping on a boxspring, but I can sleep anywhere.
It is only a five minute walk to the metro station and then two metro stops to the center of
the city and the school I will be working at.
I have an appointment today to discuss my first class for next Tuesday. I have been getting
good advice from my friend Tatiana and her mother, who has been teaching English for thirty years.
They have stressed the importance of becoming good friends with my students if I want them
to be comfortable and excited about the class. I also found out that I am not allowed to arrive
to class before the students. I am to arrive as an actor enters from stage left. The performance
is important in Russian society.
My first few days here in Russia I was feeling homesick and really wondered if this was a good
life choice. But now I have calmed down a bit and feel quite comfortable. I've been busy
learning how to navigate the metro, buy subway tokens (in Russian), shop in the multitude of
little open street markets and shops (again, in Russian) and how to stay warm. I do not
understand how these people can stand outside all day in the cold trying to sell handmade socks
and hats, jarred pickles and jams harvested from their summer homes and anything else they can
find to sell.
It is still quite dark here at 8:30am and 5:00pm. The sun rises but stays low in the sky casting
long shadows on everything. It's overcast most of the time. So when the sun comes out, it is
quite an event. I miss the Colorado sun! What this place lacks in nice weather is made up in the
overwhelming hospitality of the people. If you are invited to someone's home, be prepared to eat
to the point of bursting. Their pantries are empty, but somehow they seem to cover the table with
food.
That is all for now...
Over and out,
Ken
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Letter 2: Immigrant feelings
Hello again,
It's about 1:00pm where I am and you should all be sleeping about now. I feel like I'm on a
completely different planet. I think I know what an immigrant feels like when they come to
America. There are no newspapers, signs, magazines or price listings in your language anywhere.
Forget about understanding anything on TV and don't expect to see any news about your country.
Almost all the American movies they show here are from the 70's and 80's and low budget movies
that I have never seen before. They have Coca-Cola (but it tastes different), Pizza Hut, KFC,
but no Burger King or Wendy's. Of course no Taco Bell, it's too spicy for them.
I bought a cell phone since everyone here has them. The service is far superior to what I have
on the phone in my apartment. Quite often I hear strange ticking noises, music or other people
talking on my home phone. Also, I share my phone line with someone else in the apartment building.
I guess the government wanted to conserve on phone lines. A couple of times I've tried to make
a call and have gotten no dial tone because someone is using the line. I'm craving some talk with
some native English speakers. Anyone want to call me?
Everyone has been saying this is one of the coldest winters in recent history. It must be, it's
damn cold! Tonight I'm going to be observing the class I will be taking over next week. Then
they plan to give me another class in a few weeks. I think I'm going to visit some other schools
and try to pick up more classes so that I will be able to maintain a decent living. I also put
some ads on travel message boards on the internet for homestay in St. Petersburg. I have extra
space in my apartment.
My street is tree lined with older brown brick buildings. These are the typical 70's Soviet
apartment blocks that were built for the exodus of peasants and farmers to the cities. It is
close to the market where I do my shopping for food and other small items. Up to now I have to
figure out first what the store sells. Then go inside and try to figure out what the products
are by pictures on the labels and the try to execute a purchase without holding up the line
behind me. It can be really nerve-racking! So next time you see an immigrant and they are holding
up the line in the grocery store or bank because they don't quite understand the process, think of
me and have mercy on them.
So... Who wants to send me some peanut butter, aluminum foil, cheap skin lotion, a sports section
from any newspaper, taco seasoning and a Ford F-350 Dually Diesel with big knobby tires to have the
largest car in Russia and instill fear into the hearts of all the "Lada" drivers, especially the
ones who try to run down all pedestrians in their way, like me?
Da sveedanya!
Ken
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Letter 3: H2O heaters and pirozhkeys
So...
Another day, another letter. I have a new favorite treat for myself. It's the pirozhkeys sold
by the street side vendors. A tasty warm pie made of fried bread pastry filled with a
yet-to-be-named meat, onions and spices. Yummm! A chewy grease bomb to kill the hunger and warm
the stomach on a cold St. Petersburg afternoon. At $.25, quite a bargain!
Contrary to popular belief, Russians no longer wait in lines for food. Their grocery stores are
well stocked and filled with savvy shoppers choosing from a variety of excellent food products.
Compared to America, your choice is limited in the number of products offered, but I find a comfort
in not having my brain freeze up from trying to choose from 37 different brands of spaghetti sauce.
The drawback here is that with limited choice, I can't find the food I'm used to. I find myself
restricted to eating mostly Russian cuisine. I enjoy it very much, but a little variety would be
nice. There is a little Asian counter that sells spicy Asian salads and meats, but that is all
I have found. My quest is to find an Asian shopping market in this city and buy some soy sauce,
red curry paste and coconut milk. I've given up on peanut butter and anything Mexican.
I'm learning how to cook like a true Russian bachelor. My mantra is becoming "boil and serve".
I wish I could get the "pelmini" they have here back in the States. Tortellini-like dumplings
filled with meat, cheese and potatoes. For dessert, a Russian chocolate bar. They do as the
Europeans, listing the percent of cocoa in each bar. Russian chocolate is really good! Ice
cream is quite popular also, but nothing will ever come close to Wisconsin custard. I'd say
Italian gelato is a close second.
Enough about food... To the water heater I became so fascinated with. It is really an ingenious
invention, just a bit peculiar where they placed it. In the summer time, the central hot water
facilities shut down for maintenance for about a month. During this time, there is no hot water
in the building. Coincidentally, this is the time many Russians will plan to take their holiday.
In my apartment, I have been blessed with my own water heater. It is a gas water heater vented
through the ceiling. I have to light the pilot to get it going. I turn on the water and Presto!,
hot water. It has a dial on the front to regulate the height of the flames, and you can also
control the water temperature by regulating the flow of water. The perfect balance of these two
leads to the perfect shower temperature. So even during the month of maintenance, I will have
hot water.
I'm still working on the fine art of buying subway tokens. I have been buying them in lots of
seven. The first time I didn't give the attendant enough money and received a nice tongue lashing
in Russian from behind the window. Inevitably, there is a always a line behind me that I am
holding up while I search for that elusive One Ruble coin in my pocket. Today I tried to purchase
the subway card that allows me 25 rides before purchasing another. I rehearsed my key Russian words
before approaching the window to make my purchase. Everything was going fine, she was taking my
money, grabbing for a card, and then came the question from her I couldn't understand. Of course
she thought if she said it louder, I would understand better. Finally I just answered "Da, Da!"
(Yes, Yes!) over and over until she gave me the card in complete frustration. Walking away,
I realized what she was asking, but it was already too late. I didn't care... I have my card,
and I don't have to go through that again for another couple of weeks.
I think that's enough for tonight. My next letter will have my impressions of my first class.
If you write a letter to me, please do not hit your reply button. It sends the pictures back
to me and it takes forever to download them with the letter. The connection here is really slow,
and I usually only sign on to the internet to download my e-mail, then read it offline.
Signing off...
Ken
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Letter 4: Beer and Russian style alcoholism cure
Greeting's my friends,
I have a question for you... In your ideal society, what would you wish for? What freedoms
would you bestow upon the citizens of this great society? What would you allow to be acceptable
behavior as long as it didn't disturb the peace? I know what I would wish for... Liberal open
container laws. Is it so wrong to celebrate a successful first night of teaching your first class,
in a new country, with a different language, and all the other challenges there are to face, by
having yourself a beer on the subway, on the way home to your apartment? I don't think it is wrong,
and this is one thing I really like about this country. As I left the school building feeling on top
of the world, I thought to myself: "Boy, a beer sure would be nice right about now. But I guess I'll
have to wait until I get home. Hold on a second! I can drink on the streets... It's Ok." So I
visited my local kiosk and bought myself a "Bochkarev" (pee-va = beer). Popping the top off, I felt
the rush you get from doing something forbidden and wrong, but I knew that no cops were going to make
me pour it out and write me up a nasty ticket. Yes, maybe you think this would promote public
drunkenness, but it seems to work alright here without too many problems. I don't know... Just a
thought.
On the dark side of the alcohol spectrum... What if you were terribly alcoholic, a hopeless case
with little or no will power to stop? You've tried other programs and methods, and nothing seems
to work for you. Drinking keeps you from being a fully functioning member of society, which just
makes you want to drink more to forget your problems, and endless downward spiral. What if someone
offered you a solution with extremely serious consequences if you did not stop drinking? I'm not
talking liver disease, homelessness and destitution. I'm talking meetin' your maker.
I was talking with my new friend Evel (it's a Greek name) in the corridor, where the school I teach
at used to be located. He's an American who lives in Russia permanently with his wife and daughter.
He writes books for the school and does some teaching. I asked him if this wing of the building was
some sort of hospital. I have noticed sickly looking people and doctors walking around. He said that
the most hopeless of the hopeless alcoholics come here for help. Upon entering this program, you
voluntarily sign documents saying that you are of sound mind and body and are doing this of your
own free will. The treatment consists of (don't let the kids read this) the doctor inserting a
suppository inside of you-know-where and then sending you home. If you choose to drink any alcohol
after this point, you won't wake up in the morning. No joke! It kind of walks along a fuzzy line
regarding the Hippocratic Oath. With the litigation madness in America, this would never fly.
But Hey! Sometimes serious problems need serious solutions.
Ok... Something more upbeat. My first class was a smashing success. I didn't even have to throw up
from nervousness beforehand. The instructor I was taking over the class from and the methodologist
were planning to observe my teaching for the full two hours. After a half hour, they both handed me
little notes with nice compliments and then left. I have a class of students (seven women, one man)
all in their 20's, all Russian. Drawing upon a great idea from one of my TEFL instructors, Sunday
afternoon I will meet up with two of my students (Katya and Tanya) for coffee, tea and cakes. We had
a little competition in class. In pairs, they had to do a short presentation in English. Afterwards,
all the students voted for the best presentation, and these two won. The prize (or punishment) was
to spend one or two hours with the native English speaker over coffee, talking about whatever and
practicing English. Since being able to practice English with a native English speaker is such a rare
occurrence, it turned out to be quite a motivator to get them to work on their presentations. During
class, each pair become very secretive in their scheming to outdo the other students.
Ken
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Your opinion regarding this article will be much appreciated at the
forum.
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