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| Red Square |
I have
been here almost two weeks now. Feels like two months! The apartment is coming
along, slowly. We now have internet. The dolphin faucet was taken out the day
after I arrived because it shot water in all directions. Now, the shower head
shoots water out of all the seams. We
have discovered the oven door does not latch. The washer broke last night and
flooded the floor and doused the downstairs neighbor’s kitchen (and new
wallpaper).
We met
our downstairs neighbor because of this. Someone rings our doorbell. My roommate opens the door and in bursts this
middle aged man in his boxers and tank top. He was angry at first, but calmed
down when he saw we were hurrying to clean up and remedy the problem. He was
very friendly. I am always amazed who speaks English in this country!
Oh and
my other roommate finally has a door! After all that waiting and build up, it
is just a cheap, plastic accordion door with a three inch gap between the floor
and the door. So there is privacy, but he still can hear everything. I guess it took the handymen several hours to install
this door too.
Yesterday
we finally, after all this time of promising, made it to Ashan. Ashan is like
the Walmart of Russia. It just too far away to go shopping before or after work.
So, we had to go on Saturday. This is the same day that everyone else
goes. It was quite the experience.
First,
it is a huge warehouse. Secondly, the products were placed wherever there was
room. So I found towels in six different places. You don’t know the price of
anything, because the tags don’t match. Also there are fifty people and their
carts piled into an isle that also is full of crates and pallets. While you are
in this traffic jam, a forklift sweeps in, scooping up customers in its wake,
to remove a crate or add a crate. You are only in the way of sales associates;
they shove you out of the way and hit you with carts repeatedly until you move
out of the way. I saw one sales associate hit a kid with her cart. The kid fell
down and started crying. Everyone ignored the kid and stepped over him in their
mad rush to get their bargains (which, like Walmart, isn’t really that much of
a bargain). My co-workers are in a
constant battle of which is a better place to shop: Ikea or Ashan. I’m joining
the Ikea side…
It was great
to be able to come back with home goods!
I finally have a duvet! The size was incorrectly marked, so it is too small
for the bed, but I don’t care! I worked too hard and fought too many grandmas
to get this duvet, plus carried it all the way to the metro and home! We finally
have metal cutlery! And I bought some beer… again I chose a place with horrible
taste in beer.
On our way from Ashan to the metro,
we have to walk through this ghost town. It is all new construction of bus
stops and malls and government buildings. They are all empty, no people and no
buses. There are four lane streets with only one or two cars at a time on them.
The only habited places are the Ashan
and a yacht club, which has constant helicopter traffic, making walking to the
metro a bit windy.
I guess I have been away from
reality for far too long, because none of this actually surprises me. The only
reason I know it is weird is because Kieran and Oliver talk about it so much
and are so amazed by it. They are the ones
who stood in awe as I shouldered a big burly muscle-head out of the way of the
beets. They stopped too take pictures of yachts parked alongside cars in a
parking lot and the helicopter landing on the sidewalk. However, I did watch
the dwarf sing and dance while his handicap friend played pirate music on the accordion
on the metro… it was just too Eastern European.
Ok, I guess you all are wondering
about my work. I teach privately, one on one every day but Friday. Fridays I go
all the way across Moscow (about an hour on the metro) to an English academy. I teach English conversation to 11 and 12
year olds. We sit in a café and talk. It is nice, but difficult at times. I
have one talkative student who is into music, robotics, and nanotechnology, a
student who “only likes to sleep” (her words), and one kid who has reached the
age of not liking anything. He gets
along well with the barista who, judging by her attitude, doesn’t like anything
either.
After English convo, I head to the kindergarten
down the street to teach drama to a group of students ages nine to thirteen.
They are amazing kids so far, very active, very open. They have just been studying Russian folk
tales, so they had to tell me the folk tales. One girl told us “Little Red
Riding Hood.” When her classmate said that it wasn’t Russian she said, “Well
Little Red Riding Hood was bringing her grandmother some vodka! So there! Now
it is Russian!”
I told them a Native American
story. This story has Coyote, Man, and other animals as being one family. The
reaction was hilarious, “Wait! What kind of family is this!?! Their mother must
be crazy!” And when I finished the story, one student asked if coyotes are
still alive and I said, yes of course. The student replied, “Amazing. They seem
quite stupid.” This is the end of my
week…
I start the week off with a four year old boy
in the center of Moscow. He is a spoiled little thing, but so cute. His mother,
or nanny (cannot tell), is crazy. She has so much energy and babbles on and on
in Russian. I have no idea what she is saying half the time and she has some
kind of scheme that the child thinks is amazing. But whatever, it seems to
work, and by the end of the day the child has spoken a few English words and
hugs and kisses me goodbye.
I go
from there to a nine year old girl a few metro stops away. Her mother speaks
fluent English and sits in on the lesson. Making it nerve wracking for all involved.
But so far, luckily, the mother has had nothing but nice things to say about
the lessons. I just think her daughter would be more receptive if Mom wasn’t
around all the time.
After that
I go back towards home to an eight year old boy. He is quite active. The first
day he brought out an English picture dictionary and turned to the ladies’
underwear section, demanding to know how to pronounce the words. Also, he confessed his undying love for Hannah
Montana. Finally, at 8:30 I can head
home.
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| St. Basil's Cathedral |
Tuesdays
and Thursdays I get on a mini bus and go out of town to the dachas. These are
where the wealthy ex-soviet workers live. I teach in a neighborhood behind the
President’s neighborhood, so security is very strict and guns are trained on
you at all times. The houses are quite unimpressive on the outside, but
stunning on the inside. Every room has a chandelier and some stained glass,
expensive hardwood furniture, etc.
One
client has a driver, so he comes and picks me up to take me to the next
neighborhood and next client. This house is bigger and even more impressive. There
is a wing for the help. There is an indoor pool, a bathroom especially for the
dog and cat, and my student has a jungle gym in his room. These students are only
11 and can speak English fluently. So fluently in fact, the boy often uses “Man,
what the hell!?!” and informed me that in America, when Mom is dating someone
other than her husband, this boyfriend is referred to as “Uncle.”
By the
time I finish with this client, the buses have stopped for the night, so the
driver takes me all the way back into the city to the metro. This is my
favorite time, because I can sit back and watch the snow-covered aspens. It is
so incredibly flat everywhere in Moscow, that it is amazing when I come out of
the city and find rolling hills. Which, one day I learned are quite steep.
I went
with a co-worker who was supposed to show me how to get to a client’s house.
Well, he got off on the wrong bus stop. Instead of waiting for the next bus, he
charged on ahead. I will have you know, he had no idea where he was going. So we
hiked over the hills (in three feet deep snow), crossed a frozen river (so
freaking scary!), and walked along neighborhood walls with guns trained on us. I
was not a happy camper. He was so shocked that there was no wifi for his GPS
that he got lost. Miraculously, my survival instincts took hold and I got us
out of the woods and amazingly, to the client’s house and only five minutes
late! Now I know that if he thinks
walking is a good idea, to just let him go and I’ll wait for the bus.
Whenever I drive by with the
driver, I point to the woods and say, “I walked there” and the driver looks at
me in amazement and goes “Silly American girl.” (I think this is the only
English he knows). The driver tried to teach me how to drive too. He showed me
how to start the car and put it into gear. He and his co-worker put me in the
driver’s seat one day and showed me how to start the car. He was amazed when he
discovered that I already know how to drive!
Wednesday is the same as Monday. So
every day is a new adventure thanks to my crazy clients. I think I will enjoy them more after I have
kicked this “epidemic” that has spread across Moscow.
