I exaggerate only slightly when I say I nearly caused an
international incident yesterday – on two occasions. Let me just say, in my
defence: it had been a very long day. Meeting everyone, having a pop quiz,
trying to get my bearings, it was all exhausting. By the end of it I was tired,
cold and hungry, and I was missing home and everything in it.
In retrospect, it was stupid to mention my craving for
Special K – actually, Cornflakes, Shreddies, any kind of cereal – because it
could only ever lead to confusion and the baffled reply that ‘Konpleks’ do not
exist in this godforsaken country! My babushka was really quite irate by the
end of it, so that I had to reassure her that it had only been a whim and that
Russian food really was the best I’d tasted so everything was in fact fine.
Crisis averted. Until, of course, late evening arrived, and
with it, the unbearable cold yet again. Texting my parents in bed, shivering, I
tried to explain that I was alive and well but couldn’t help but mention the
arctic temperatures I was trying to endure. On their advice I tentatively
knocked on Lyudmila’s door and explained the situation, whereupon she followed
me into my room and repeatedly exclaimed that it was impossible I could be
cold; how could I possibly be cold? My strangeness and perennial coldness is
difficult to explain at the best of times, so explaining it to an elderly
Russian lady was a challenge to say the least. I was regretting my decision
already; she had reminded me that the heating doesn’t come on in Russia until
October so it seemed that nothing could be done, and I had only seemed to upset
her in the process. Eventually she pulled a strange patterned board from the
side of the wardrobe, which was attached to a wire she plugged in to the
socket. She propped it against the wall for a few minutes but was worried about
the fire risk, so I was finally forced to take the initiative and unplug it
myself, claiming that I was actually fine and there was nothing to worry about.
She seemed genuinely concerned about me now, and took the board and put it
under my bed sheets, smiling at her innovativeness. After a couple more minutes she
told me to get into bed, which I duly did, and she tucked the blankets around
me like a mother would a small child. It was really touching to realise that
she had only been worried about my welfare and comfort, and that all she wanted
was for me to feel warm, safe and happy.
Today I woke up warm after a broken but long night’s sleep.
Whilst I had been showering and getting myself ready, Lyudmila had prepared
warm porridge for me, which she said she hoped I liked and that it would warm
me up. Next to it was a pot of tea and a pot of milk as usual, as well as the blini I had begun to get used to as a
food staple – in case I didn’t like the porridge, she said. When I returned to
my room Lyudmila had put the heater on again, to warm the room up while I was
away. I offered to turn it off but she assured me she would keep an eye on it
and, after she had advised me against my boots and recommended my wellies for
the rain, we said our goodbyes for the day.
On arriving at the uni, I found out I had been placed in the
top group and had my first timetabled classes – two lessons on media and two on
translation. The work isn’t easy but I would much rather be pushed than be
bored. Classes ended at 1pm, as they will for the next four months, so Ed and I
did a few things in town before I made my way on the free bus to the Globus
supermarket.
The supermarket was huge, and I wandered around for what
seemed like hours, comparing the products and prices with what we get back
home. It soon became obvious that the Russians have completely different tastes
from us Brits. There was so much bread and cheese, and the bread was so cheap!
The cereal section was minuscule, but at least it existed; I managed to buy
equivalents to Crunchy Nut, Frosties and Special K! As I was coming onto the
car park I saw a green bus like the one I had taken there, and ran to catch it,
only to discover it was a number 2 bus that didn’t even go to my stop at
Красная Плошадь. I was grateful my hurried Russian was just understandable
enough to get me instructions on when to get off and which bus to take next.
I’d been lucky, but I would have to be more careful next time.
I showed my buys to Lyudmila when I got home, and tried to
explain the joys of cereal, sultanas and various other peculiarly English
purchases I’d made. I think this probably added to her suspicion that she has
got someone rather odd living in her flat.
For dinner I was presented with cod; fried potatoes with
onions; salad and bread. I was beginning to feel more settled and was starting
to see the different food as an opportunity to experience the culture, even if
it was scary not knowing what I would be given next. After dinner, Lyudmila and
I talked for a long time about Yaroslavl and Russia, and about life in the
Soviet Union. We seem to be getting along well now we’re getting used to each
other. She’s put another blanket on my bed too.
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