29th November: A Busy Week

Despite the impression I've had that this last month is going to be the biggest challenge so far, over the past few days I've managed to have a really good time.

On Monday night, after boxercise, I was meeting Vanya, Julia and a friend of theirs (at Cocktail Bar, as per Monday night tradition). Outside I bumped into Nick and Will and they soon fit into our group (maybe even a little too well, when Nick and Vanya decided to have a drinking competition). Even though I’d heard that no one was going to be out that night, the place gradually filled up with our English crowd, but I was happy to stay and talk with my Russian friends.

Later on, we went up to the second floor, where there’s a dance floor as well as a bar. There was a great atmosphere, and it was only because Vanya had overdone it on the drinking contest that we left at 3.30. For the second time that night, some guy tried to talk to me, not getting the hint when I said I was with friends. He wasn't as bad as the guy downstairs though, who, after trying to persuade me to leave, followed me to my table to try and get my number. As I was leaving, the second guy slipped a note into my hand with his number on it, labelled ‘English man’; either these are the normal pulling techniques here, or it was just one of those nights.

We came out of the bar to find it was still snowing, a blissful contrast to the heat inside. The streets looked beautiful, shimmering under the lights. There’s something about walking empty snowy streets at night that’s incredibly peaceful. We took our time walking back, chatting and listening to Blue Jeans by Lana del Rey on repeat – I can’t seem to tire of that song, it’s really beautiful. Then we said our goodbyes, agreeing to meet up again the next day.

And so, the next day, as promised, after my Latino dance class I headed over to Vanya’s on the marshrutka. Both Julia and Vanya said they’d meet me at the bus stop as they lived so close to one another, which was a relief as I had no idea where I was going. As we ascended the steps to Vanya’s flat, his mum, Natasha, was already waiting in the doorway, laughing at the fact I was slightly out of breath from carrying my bag up the stairs. Vanya’s dad (whose name, amusingly, is Ivan, making Vanya’s full name Ivan Ivanovich) was standing in the small hallway and there was a lot of crowded bustling about whilst everyone took off their layers and said their hellos. Natasha kindly proffered a pair of slippers in my direction, already offering food and drinks.

Knowing that it’s a Russian custom to offer guests copious amounts of food and drink, but having just eaten before leaving the house, I tried to politely decline, and Natasha conceded to just put on some tea. As the kettle was boiling, both parents came into Vanya’s room and started asking me questions, full of interest about me and my life in England. It was nice to see that some things never change, no matter what country you’re in, as even from the kitchen Natasha repeatedly interjected to nag Ivan to talk slower, despite the fact he was talking at a completely reasonable speed.

When the tea was ready we settled down in the living room and Ivan picked a Russian comedy to show me, as we’d just been talking about it. Of course, despite my previous protests an entire feast had been laid out on the table – blini, tvorogi, salad and even, a bit later, a whole apple pie. As I was picking up my tea I was offered honey, which, I was told, had come from all the way from the Urals – so how could I refuse? I was about to put it in my tea when Vanya stopped me, explaining that I was meant to eat it straight from the teaspoon, then take a sip of tea. This seemed a bit odd but I obliged, and I have to say it actually works quite well.

Ivan started the film, a Russian parody of Naziism called “Гитлер Капут” ('Hitler Kaputt'), stopping it every few minutes to explain what was going on, and even at some points rewinding it until I’d understood every word. In the meantime, Natasha was preparing yet more food and, when she brought in the apple pie it was an effort for me to appear enthusiastic, being already full from the blini and tvorogi. However, I was so touched that she’d gone to all this effort that I couldn't find the heart to appear anything but overjoyed at the prospect of another huge portion of food, and started to look around for a plate and cutlery. It was then that I was given a fork and told, “This is Russia. We eat straight from the bowl.” Talk about a cultural experience.

It took us a long time to watch the film to the end, what with the constant rewinding and stopping it so Natasha could ask me questions. She was fascinated to know how people in England lived and found it difficult to imagine the concept of private houses and gardens, an unknown phenomenon here unless you count the wooden dachas in the countryside, which is a different thing altogether. Somehow it happened that at one point all the family photo albums were coming out and I was being shown photos of their trips to England (they’d been to Exeter with the grandfather’s folk orchestra, too), as well as pictures of a young Vanya, much to his horror.

At around midnight Julia had to go home, fearing her mother’s reaction if she appeared any later, there having been at least two irritable phone calls from her already. So, the three of us put on all our layers and braved it out into the cold. It had finally stopped snowing, but the temperature had plunged to well below freezing. Most days now we’re lucky to get highs of -5, but of course, the Russians are used to this and find my horror a brilliant source of amusement. It’s actually so standard that when talking about the temperature, they often don’t even bother to include the word ‘minus’.

When we got back to the flat, Natasha happened to see my coat and asked me skeptically if I wasn't freezing. I admitted that yes, I was quite chilly, and before I knew it I was being given a jacket to try on and being told to put on all my layers to prove their adequacy. When my outerwear had been approved I was allowed to undress again and carry on with the film, but not before another round of probing questions. I was happy to answer, even though it was hard to explain; it was the least I could do after being made to feel so welcome.

The next day their kindness went even further; after I’d been allowed to help myself to cereal and been brewed a fresh cup of coffee, I was given a lift all the way into university. As I was leaving there was an awkward moment where I didn't know what to do about the coat situation; was I expected to wear the thick red one I’d tried on the day before? I tried to ask Vanya in private but there was no time – and so I took a guess and agreed to leave my coat behind and take Natasha’s.

There was traffic on the roads but not as much as I’d expected, and we managed to make it in by 9.13 on the dot. On the way we dropped off another passenger who I didn't know but assumed was a neighbour, and Natasha jumped out at the lights about halfway into town, before I’d even had chance to thank her profusely, as I’d had planned. The last half of the journey was just me and Ivan, but it was surprisingly comfortable, even when we fell into silence every now and then. When we arrived I thanked him and told him how kind they had been, and that I hoped I would see them soon.

The next day was the last night out for the people who were leaving on Friday, and I planned to meet them at Your Bar after my usual Wednesday trip to the cinema. This time, I’d arranged to meet Alexia, Vanya and Julia to watch the final ‘Twilight’ instalment (even though I do find these films more than a bit ridiculous) but it turned out there were no tickets left and Alexia didn't have any money left in her account, so Vanya, Julia and I ended up at Cocktail Bar again.

At just after 9 Julia said she had to go, worrying again about how her mother might react. Before meeting me she’d never got drunk and never even been to a bar; her mother must hate me. On the plus side, though, before I came along she and Vanya weren't very close either and hardly saw each other. The other day, Julia told me how happy she was because Vanya had called her to meet up with us, and that had never happened before.

Vanya and I stayed in Cocktail Bar till around ten, when we thought my English friends would be arriving in Your Bar. I can feel how talking in Russian is getting easier and how my confidence is growing; I’m even able to make jokes now and express my personality a lot better. When we arrived in Your Bar, no one had arrived yet and it was looking depressingly empty, but Vanya’s friend, who’s a bouncer there, came to talk to us and within half an hour it was full of English students anyway. We stayed until closing at 2am, when we moved back to Cocktail yet again. There I met some more of Vanya’s friends, one of whom tried to explain to me the difference between Russians and Englishmen, which I have to say wasn't particularly flattering (but then, who could blame him, when his primary reference point was probably the crowd of drunkards hanging around at the bar?)

We left at around 4, by which time the group had already started to break up. After so many late nights, I was relieved at the prospect of my warm bed, even if I would only be in it for three-and-a-half hours. It was a tough task to get through this morning but I managed it nonetheless, and spent the afternoon catching up on sleep before heading to my dance class at 7.30, by which time my brain was working properly again and I managed to have a successful session. Irina, the instructor, was at it again, informing us all didactically what we should and shouldn't do to get thin, and how we shouldn't be able to pinch more than 4cm of belly flesh. I've learnt by now that this is just her way, and not to be offended when she says things like, “ You've eaten before class again, haven’t you? It all goes on your belly, you know.” That’s Russian subtlety for you. Apparently, if we want to look anywhere near half-decent, we shouldn't eat anything after 4 o’clock. Thanks for the advice, but I’d rather not die of starvation! It’s a good job she’s nice and only means well; I think it’s just another cultural thing.

So, now I’m about to enjoy my first proper night in for a long time, and hopefully I’ll wake up refreshed for my trip to Moscow tomorrow. I’m hoping that a bit more time apart from Lyudmila will also do us both good; on the whole she’s been a lot better this week (I even got given two cakes), but maybe that’s because she’s just been glad to get rid of me for a couple of nights. Apparently, a lot of people have started having problems with their landladies now; the word is that after Reading Week they tend to just get fed up with having someone living in their flat. Nonetheless, Lyudmila and I have managed a few conversations this week, and in any case, I think I can bear a bit of moodiness for three weeks. Besides, it’s not like I’m ever actually in.