Saturday, August 05, 2006

They tell me that I'll want to come back, but I beg to differ. Even those who travelled to London and returned just last week tell me that Russia is better than Britain; the food is better, everything is cheaper, and the people are more open. But that's because they are Russians themselves and nothing is as good as it is back in your home land. I tell my disappointed-looking students that I'm not coming back and they all ask the same thing: Why? Knowing that the truth would only hurt them, I say simply, 'I'm not Russian, Russia is not my home', looking at them sadly, and that seems to do the trick.

Obviously, I am distancing myself so as to make the parting easier, of course, I love Russia deep down in my, uh, soul. I will never forget the kindness of my host family, nor the sensitive and caring nature of the ladies. I will always think of Russia now when I see snow, or smell sewage (oops, I forgot I'm meant to be mentioning the good points), and remember it with nostalgia induced fondness.

Russia, you have been good to me, and I will always remember you!

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Living in Siberia for 7 months is like listening to a long dance track: it starts off and you think,'ooh this is ok', and then by the middle you're into it, tapping your feet and bobbing your head around, but by the last minute and a half it's got a bit tedious and you just want to skip to the next song.

They do say that all good things must come to an end, and indeed, even bad things are doomed to the same fate. So this is the end of my Siberian adventure and let me tell you, dear friends, it's not been easy. No, it's been a tumultuous journey from innocence to maturity; from naivety to enlightenment. I shall not forget Russia and all the lessons it has taught me. Nor will I forget the cheap music it has provided me with! For as in all good adventures, the protagonist (that's me) has emerged from the crusty shell of routine and mundaneness into the fully blossomed flower of worldly-wise-ness. I could tell you a thing or two but you probably wouldn't believe me. There'll be stories to tell round the fireplace now. I can look back at my 20's and think 'well old gal, you did it you know'.

I fear that when I return to England I'll adopt an uncle Albert style habit of starting each sentence with 'when I was in Russia...', to which all my companions will groan and instantly fall asleep. As if they didn't already do that every time I spoke.

The most important thing though is that I have finally read The Lord of the Rings and listened to The White Album, acquainted myself with the life's works of David Bowie and read and related to Gogol – all of which could not have happened had I not come here to Russia, especially in the last two months of having no students cos they've all buggered off on holiday. I have also been lucky enough to be introduced to the delights of Russian pop music, something that will long remain with me, like the lingering taste of shashlik bought from a dirty looking barman at a summer tent. What else?.... well there was the skiing in the forest, the dachas and banya, the vodka – ah yes the vodka, who could forget the diaphanous venom, and the Baltika number 7. Of course, Russia is not all about drinking and tacky plastic pop, there's much more to the motherland than that. What? Well, there's the obsession with money and image, proving that even here, 3000 km from Moscow, they're still only human. There's the denial of above mentioned obsession with money and image, which is more entertaining than the nationalism, and of course there's the vast Russian soul. But shhhh, we shan't talk about that here for I cannot do it justice through my plain words, it has to be experienced first hand to grasp the full extent of it's magnetism and deepness. But once you get drawn in there's no release, it's like a trap... Luckily I have wriggled free, and am back to my senses after my pro-Noel Edmonds speech earlier in the week!

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

I have been wandering around the town bidding adieu to all the familiar sights and statues; Lenin, the man who discovered oil in Tyumen, the war heroes.... the churches, the old wooden houses, the babooshkas begging on the streets, the summer tents, the fountains.... there are so many sights that have become familiar to me over the past 7 months. The one defining sight however will be the first time I walked the short distance from my flat to work. This journey I have taken at least twice a day every day and could do it with my eyes shut (not advisable to do anything in Russia with your eyes shut – especially when it involves crossing a road) and it sums up the whole of the Russian experience – for my journey in the morning may be delightful, with early morning (which in Tyumen means near noon) sun blinding the citizens of this fair city and no need of coat or umbrella... By lunch time (2 hours later) the journey now involves cleverly mastering the obstacles of muddy puddles and pedestrian-soaking cars.... But, back to my original point, the first time I took that short but hazardous journey was back in January when there was nothing to be seen but snow, and I felt the reality (as well as the freezing air) hit me of just what I was doing and where I was,,, thankfully the snow and cold-induced haziness made it seem dream-like and so I convinced myself that that's just what it was – all in an effort to keep the madness at bay. It seemed to work, just about. In fact the dramatic weather conditions were nothing in comparison to the temperament of my new colleagues, which were much harder to anticipate, and which couldn't be repelled by an umbrella or fur coat. No, you must understand, that when working in a Russian province with an office full of ladies, one must have full control of what I believe is referred to in certain circles as 'emotional intelligence'. This means saying the right thing at exactly the right time, not telling the truth very often and being able to decipher whether the colleague is actually saying what they mean or meaning exactly the opposite of what they are saying. It's a tough business. I must say my grasp on the emotional intelligence has been slowly waning and my patience is running out, so much so that I am myself now jibbering and ranting like a crazed Russian, getting defensive and nationalistic about my country. I am also enjoying amateur philosophy in a way that the pre-Russian me would have scorned at, and even found myself warming to Noel Edmonds and his drivel about positive thinking in the interview with him on the Guardian website.
I think it's definitely time for me to leave this place and return to normality!
This weekend was the celebration of the town's 420th Birthday. I attended a firework display on Friday night to contribute to the celebrations, however, nobody had told me that to reap the reward of seeing the superb fireworks I would have to endure a exhibition of children doing keep fit-style dancing to tunes such as 'It's a Sin' and 'Born in the USA'. It was delightful really it was.

Other than that I didn't see any other celebrations, possible due to the rain, which yesterday evening reached torrential heights. I went instead to a Dacha, having been invited there by my student, ate barbecued meat and drank beer and managed to escape having a banya. I tried to explain that it's not the done thing for British people to remove their clothes on a first meeting, I know I'm in Russia and 'when in ...' etc, but I've had enough of doing the Russian thing. So instead they interrogated me with, what in normal circumstances I would consider, freakish interest, but of course these aren't normal circumstances and I am now used to people being interested in little old me just because I'm from a far off country. I began to get afraid when they asked 'is there any record of your being here in Russia' – I don't know, maybe it's the being taken 40 minutes drive from the city to a wooden house and the isolation, but the paranoia button in my brain started to flash, that's when I insisted that we not have a banya in which I would be trapped in a small room in plus 100 conditions with Russians who I hardly know, with not even clothes to protect me. Of course, I was as usual letting my imagination get carried away and I quickly resolved the situation by telling them that yes I do have a contract and if I went missing suddenly someone would miss me.... wouldn't they? It was very pleasant and the Russians again have shone with hospitality and interest making me feel unworthy of such attention and esteem. You can't fault the Russians for their hospitable nature and their effort.