8th September: Keeping busy

Finally, the weekend is here! To celebrate, last night we had our first ‘big night out’ in Yaroslavl. Everyone was there; our group dominated the two-roomed Oktoberfest bar (which was complete with old German-style slatted swinging doors) and it was a great opportunity to speak to more people and get to know everyone better.

Before all this, though, I had my trip to the jazz club to get my first experience of Russian culture – or at least, the Russian take on Western culture. So, at 6.30pm prompt my babooshka’s friend Natasha came to collect me and walked me to the Jazz Centre in town, fifteen minutes’ walk from the flat. Conversation was stilted at first as it was difficult for us to find a common topic, but we got on well and I thanked her profusely – maybe even too much for here in Russia, where words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are often regarded as unnecessary formalities.

The jazz club was small with a relaxed layout of tables and chairs in front of a little stage. The room quickly filled up until almost full and I realised what a privilege it was to be treated to free entry to this event. The ensemble consisted of grand piano, acoustic guitar, double bass and drums (kit and bongos), with the occasional addition of alto sax or another guitar. The players, having all graduated from the Moscow Conservatoire, were natural musicians and the music was gorgeous, based around tuneful melodies but filled with improvisation and solos. Natalia told me that the drummer had been a late addition to the night’s line-up; she’d come over from New York, having lived there for four years with her husband, and hasn’t been granted a return visa. Natasha told me this with a deadpan expression and without a hint of surprise; apparently, things like this are by no means a rare occurrence here.

As I glanced around the room, I noticed I was the only person tapping my foot along to the music, the Russians sitting stock still and stony-faced; yet every solo was met with generous applause. Once again I have to believe that this is just the Russian way. Nevertheless, after the concert was over I thanked Natasha again and told her it had been a wonderful experience. She seemed really glad to find someone to share her enthusiasm and offered to take me again, having already given me the Friday night timetable for the next two months.

Since I was meeting my friends in town, Natalia offered to take me there, despite the fact that it was slightly out of the way. When we couldn’t find the club, she walked me back to the university where I was going to meet some others. I couldn’t believe her kindness towards me, a mere stranger really.

The night was cold and I was glad of my thick winter coat, even if it was a little premature for the season. By the time I reached the bar, six of my fingers had gone completely numb, much to the shock and horror of my friends. Thankfully, we stayed there until closing, as we were all enjoying getting to know one another and the prices were good. A shot here is the equivalent of a double in the UK, so I was effectively paying £1.50 for a double vodka and coke (although the prices did mysteriously vary from 50 to 80 roubles each time I ordered…) At around 2am we made our way to ‘Your Бар', but understandably they wouldn’t let our group in, there being so many of us. This resulted in a lot of endless wandering before Alex, Sean, Beth and I decided to make our way home.

This morning I woke up refreshed at 10am and went into the kitchen to talk to Lyudmila, who had laid out bread, jam, muesli and a pot of tea for me. I was glad that I’d finally taken the initiative the day before and had said that, although the твороги were nice and I was enthusiastic to try Russian cuisine, I was a very healthy person and thought that it would be healthier to have хлопя in the morning. She was much more understanding than I’d expected, and my directness has obviously paid off. It being her nephew’s birthday today, she went out, but she had cooked me a vegetarian борщ (beet soup) for lunch – even though she’s only obligated to provide me breakfast and dinner. She’s showed me how to use the stove so I can heat up the soup, which she’s made from scratch, and can boil myself cups of tea when I want them. Tomorrow she’s also offered to take me on a tour of the town so I can see all the sites.

This afternoon Alex and I visited the Kremlin, where we saw the sad bear Masha in his cage and visited the cathedral. It was a cold and wet day so we were forced to take shelter in a café mid-afternoon, before heading to the central market, where we checked out the local produce and tried, to no avail, to find some socks worth buying (as I had realised it was not going to be so easy to wash out my underwear every week, the washing line over the bath being the only method of drying them).

We decided to make plans for the evening despite the fact that the weather was horrible and most of the group were still hanging from the night before. I’m worried that empty evenings will be the time I’m most likely to get homesick, so going out seems the best distraction. Since I’m so busy when I’m at home, it’s fatal for me to have long stretches of time without plans, so I’m trying to avoid this as much as possible. We’ve been told that next week we’ll find out about the clubs on offer at the university, which will give me more to do as well as the opportunity to make connections with Russian students. I also need to check out the gym because I’ll definitely want to get some exercise, especially when it’s too cold to want to walk around outside. I’m determined to distract myself from the reality of living in a strange country away from all my friends and family. The feeling is difficult to describe, but I’ve already learnt how easy it is to be surrounded by people and still feel alone. Sometimes I get the urge to cry at the strangest moments, like when I’m walking down the street to meet up with friends. But then the moment passes and I can carry on as before, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.