It was a struggle to get out of bed yesterday morning, but I’m
glad I did; finally, a huge bowl of the Russian equivalent of Cornflakes was sitting
waiting for me on the breakfast table! Of course, being Russian, any chance
they had had of being healthy had been taken away by the huge amounts of sugar
that had obviously gone into them, but nevertheless they were almost the same
and it was incredibly sweet of Lyudmila to put in the effort to find them for
me.
The Russian Cornflakes also served the extra purpose that
day of taking the edge off the sickly feeling I had after getting in at 4.30
that morning from a night that had turned out to be much bigger than expected. I
hadn’t really planned to go out at all, not having booked a place at the meal
for David’s birthday, but had decided at the last minute it would be nice to go
and meet everyone. So we met at the Red Steak Bar, where they were having
trouble paying (turns out, the prices had been per 100g!) and went on to Этажи, where Rob had reserved us a table
and bought bottles of vodka and coke for everyone to share, and finally on to Your
Бар, where we bought a table between us again and got food and
drinks for free all night.
The night had been amazing but the next day, not so much. Only
about seven people turned up to lectures and four of those hadn’t been out. After
lectures, I had to try and sort out my visa to change it to multiple entry so I
could go back home for a few days for the funeral. The international office was
sceptical that I’d be able to get it done in time but promised they would do
their best. As well as the usual photographs (matt only) and application forms,
this time I needed a document proving the reason I needed to return. After ascertaining
that email was not an option and explaining to the disbelieving office staff
that telegrams were no longer in use in England, I agreed to get the death
certificate faxed over as soon as possible.
When I finally got home I managed to take a long nap before
heading back over to the university to finish the application process. The fax
from my mum had arrived successfully and all that was left to do was to give in
my photos and fill out the application form, which, with all my names and
addresses having to be transcribed into Russian, was not as easy as it sounds. Then
I just had to wait to hear the result.
At 6 o’clock I managed to drag myself out the house to the
Dance Fit Mix class at the fitness studio, which I hoped would make me feel
better rather than worse. I was glad I took the risk because, apart from the
spontaneous splits we were asked to do, I coped much better than I thought I
would and discovered I’m not actually an awful dancer after all. It seems to me
that Russian women are a lot more fitness-conscious than we are, particularly
in terms of being supple, and dance as a form of keeping fit is a lot more
common here. Whereas you would go to a fitness studio in England and see a lot
of chubby people trying to get fit, here it seems like women are expected to be
in shape and that going to these dance-exercise classes is just a way of
maintaining that.
When I returned, Lyudmila was preparing my dinner and we had
a chat about my exercise class and how her day had been. She asked me if it was
normal in England for girls to stay out until 4.30am, because she found it very
strange, as Russian girls would apparently never do that. She’s already called
me a гулянка for going out so much, so I had suspected
this question might be coming. In a way, I can see her point as I am out nearly
every night and had stayed out till past 3.30 on Thursday, Friday and Monday. But
on the other hand it does make me wonder what Russian girls do if they don’t go
out at night? Maybe this is just what she thinks, as she doesn’t know any young
people?
Changing the subject, I asked her if Sean could meet us at
the house before the chamber orchestra concert on Thursday but for some reason
she seemed reluctant, and eventually it was agreed that he could meet us by the
statue at the end of the road. I couldn’t quite work out why he wasn’t allowed
to meet us at the house, or even outside the gates, but I know better than to
ask as most of the time the answer to questions like these is just that the
Russians can be a bit odd. I also asked her if I could use the washing machine
the next day, but she seemed disapproving of this too. Sometimes she seems negative
about the most bizarre things, but then I ask if everything’s ok and she smiles
and says of course, so maybe it’s just her way. I said that I would pay to wash
my clothes, of course (the university had told us to expect to pay 120r per
wash), and it turned out she was just concerned that it might rain, but I said
that wasn’t a problem, I would just wash them another day. However, she
insisted that she would wash them, and I knew better than to argue with her,
formidable old woman that she is.
This morning I left the clothes in a plastic bag as she had
asked, and when I returned found all my clothes hanging out to dry on the line.
I’d planned to fetch them in myself but before I had chance she had already
collected them and delivered them to my room. I paid her with a 500r note as I
had nothing smaller, and she returned with only 350r change. Without thinking I
said that it wasn’t a problem, I would get the rest of the change later,
forgetting that it only amounted to about 60p. She left with a sour expression
and returned a couple of minutes later to say that 120r was very cheap, and
that I would pay 700r at the Laundromat. Not really knowing how to respond to
this, I meekly repeated that the university had told us 120r was the normal
rate, but as she started to get irritated I decided that it didn’t really
matter and said that of course, 150r was fine. Satisfied, she left the room,
and when it was time for dinner she was waiting in the kitchen, telling me with
a smile that she had cut me two (huge) pieces of the apple pie she had made
that day. She really is impossible to predict.
No comments:
Post a Comment