11/11/09

Vova, Sasha, Ruslan, and Kiril – the boys we’ve just been playing cards with. At the moment we’re on a train to Yekaterinburg. Our university is under quarantine for a week because of H1N1, so we decided to take advantage of our unexpected break from classes by heading to another city for a few days. We left five hours ago. Ten more to go!

Now Maxim and another Kiril have joined them and they’re talking about serving in the army. Most of them are coming back from training for a year in the Caucases (which is where our train started. We got on in Kazan) Military service is obligatory for boys in Russia. When they arrive home, it will be the first time they’ve seen everyone in a year.

The third class wagons are open (meaning that the compartments are not separated by doors), so everyone sees and hears everyone else. One of the guys in the compartment to the right of us is from Tajikistan and joined our conversation with the army boys when he heard that the Brits I’m traveling with didn’t know what sala was (strips of fat – a favorite Ukrainian/Russian delicacy). The people to our left are from Chechnya – a family of five including the grandmother. Their toddlers keep running up and down the path between the bunks and people take them into their laps and speak baby Russian to them. Vova keeps trying to get us to have a shot of vodka with them. Here on the train, everything is communal – food, children, space, time. Once they found out we had brought beer with us, it was just assumed that we would pass it around.

It is incredibly stuffy in Russian trains, but they don’t like drafts so no one opens the windows, which at the moment are dripping with condensation. Through the condensation I can make out towns and villages rushing by, already covered in a few inches of snow even though its only the beginning of November.

Life here seems more normal with each passing week. It feels almost natural, which is fascinating to me since the Russian way of life still doesn’t make sense in my head. I have a certain fondness now for crowded busses, Russian “lines” (because if you learn to work them you can get things done faster), 4 – 5 cups of tea a day, carpets as wall hangings and tablecloths, fish soup, home remedies (except garlic cloves), and random conversations with babushkas and taxi drivers. Garlic is apparently the cure for everything. Even the news people, when reporting on the current state of the swine flu, advise viewers to eat lots of garlic to avoid catching it. My host mom feeds me crushed cloves on toast sometimes for breakfast.

I’ve really enjoyed getting to know her. She’s been telling me stories of when it was like growing up in the Soviet Union. In some ways Russia hasn’t changes much. Through the window, the towns have given way to snow-covered fields and forests of birch and pine. Not long ago we passed a lake dotted with ice fishermen. This is one Russian tradition I have yet to try. Hopefully soon!

Everything is good here, just trying to learn this language. Happy Thanksgiving! (one week early) Eat some sweet potatoes for me, since they don’t have them here and I’m missing them. I hope you all are doing well. Write when you get a chance!