Wednesday 5 September 2012

3rd September: A new kind of normality

This is my first full day in Russia and I feel as though I have had steel chains locked around my hands and feet and been thrown into the ocean. Nothing I had read or been told could ever have prepared me for this. This is not just another country, this is another world.
On arriving at Moscow airport yesterday, we were told by a RLUS representative to wait for another member of staff to collect us and take us on the final four-hour leg of the journey to Yaroslavl. At that stage it had been a comfort to find out that we were a big group of British students all heading for the same course – and that I even knew some of them from Exeter already. The wait for our rep was long but at least we were all in it together now, and we had at least found a RLUS representative who vaguely knew what was going on. An hour later we were directed to a coach, where we spent a very long, cold few hours, filled with apprehension about what to expect at the other end. Finally we reached Yaroslavl, where the drop-offs began. I was one of the last to go.

My host for the next four months was waiting, smiling, outside the university. We introduced ourselves and I breathed a sigh of relief that she seemed friendly and not at all like the distant, strict Russian stereotype I had begun to expect. She took one of my cases and walked with me to her flat, which she already referred to as ‘ours’, pointing out the Volga and the train station on the way and attempting conversation despite my broken Russian. My nerves made me forget my grammar and even my words but I tried to seem friendly and keep talking despite my exhaustion. First impressions are always important, but especially so when you’re going to be living in close proximity with someone for the next four months of your life.

The surroundings were green and pleasant, not at all what I’d expected after seeing the streets where others had been dropped off, which had been exactly how you’d imagine Russian suburban areas to be – drab, expansive and impersonal. When we reached the apartment block, we climbed the handful of tiled steps to the second apartment, which was fronted by an old metal door. The entire building was distinctly Soviet and I prepared myself for what was inside. Whilst she bolted the two front doors, Lyudmila directed me to my bedroom, which contained a wooden-framed sofa converted into a bed, a dining table, a wardrobe, cupboards and a shelving unit containing an old JVC TV. A short explanation of my bedroom facilities and it was time to see the rest of the flat, which consisted of another room like mine, a tiny kitchen, a toilet and a bathroom with only a bath and no sink – presumably, you were supposed to wash and brush your teeth using the tap raised over the faded green bath. Lyudmila seemed lovely, the flat clean and comfortable – but I have never felt so far from home.

After eating the blini (Russian pancakes) and homemade apple jam, and drinking the warming tea that had been laid out for me, we chatted a while before going to bed. The night was long and cold, despite my many layers and blankets. The next day my alarm woke me from a disturbed sleep at 10am. Struggling to adjust the shower to the right temperature, I washed my hair and worried about the cost of water consumption for my host, whose life seemed, from the short conversation I had had with her, to be governed not only by bleak poverty but also loneliness, as she lived completely alone, having no family of her own – only a sister and her children.

There must have been a communication problem somewhere as I was suddenly under the impression that Lyudmila wanted to leave for the university within ten minutes of me getting out the shower – a disaster since I had planned to take time over choosing what to wear, doing my hair and make-up and having a relaxed breakfast. So I rushed to be ready for 10.45 despite the fact that we were not expected at the uni until 11.30, but when the time came to leave she suddenly became very relaxed. Eventually we set off. She gave me my keys and showed me how to double-lock and unlock the many doors, and showed me the various entrances to the apartment courtyard. By the time we got to the uni my brain was exploding with the effort of remembering so many details – and in Russian too. I knew only too well the dangers of getting lost in a place like this.

Lyudmila said goodbye to me at the entrance and I was left to fend for myself in the huge old building. Thankfully I met Lily and her host on the stairs and followed them to the correct room, where we were given a short induction and told we were going to sit a test – right then. Having not spoken Russian for four months, I was completely unprepared, and could only hope that everyone else was in a similar situation.

The afternoon was spent eating lunch, buying Russian mobile phones and getting new passport photos taken for the student ID. At 6pm I made my way home, stopping off to buy water and take photos of my immediate surroundings. After more attempts at polite conversation with Lyudmila, I launched into my suggestion that I buy myself some cereal as a bit of a home comfort, which led to much confusion. It was finally decided that I could try to find these ‘Confleks’ at the supermarket (which is a 20-minute bus ride away) but that they probably didn’t exist. I then broached the question of whether I could buy my lunch and bring it to the flat rather than eating at a restaurant every day, which she didn’t seem very pleased about at all. She started to ask about money and I told her the cost of the rent, having assumed she knew this already. I hope she doesn’t try to ask for more – this is expensive enough as it is!

And so to the end of my first day. It’s 22:09 but I’m wide awake and my room is still cold. I can only hope that I’ll find out more tomorrow – about food, gyms, activities, how to go out at night – so I can start adjusting and create a new kind of normality.

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