More Funny Stories...

So tonight when I came home, I had quite an interesting experience.

I pressed the number on the keypad to enter the building. Strangely, as I walked inside, I noticed that the entrance to the basement was open and letting out a musty stench. It's usually closed and letting out that same stench. I stopped to listen for a moment, curious to find out what was going on. After realizing that faint Russian is even more difficult to understand than normal Russian, I resigned and entered the elevator, pressing the button for the seventh floor. When the elevator stopped, it shed light into an otherwise pitch black stairwell. Is this normal? I thought. Is it usually so dark in here? The answer was no. So, I whipped out my handy-dandy cell phone for some lighting (which, of course, was so meager that I could barely see my hand in front of my face) and held it down to the lock on the door.

While I was fumbling with my keys, I heard some shuffling behind me.

I froze.

What or who could possibly be behind me? If it's an intruder, how do I get out of this situation? I could run up the stairs...but to where? I could run down the stairs, but they're blocking the way. I could jump back in the elevator, but it's already closed and gone back down to the bottom. I could run into my apartment quickly, but it stinking takes me five minutes just to unlock the door...what do I do?

What else could I do? I turned around and peered into the darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a hunched figure glaring back at me. "Kakoe kashmar," it said, which means "what a horror" or "how awful". New rule: Babushkie should NOT lurk around in the darkness.

She and I chatted for a minute, and I told her that I had heard voices in the basement, so I thought they were probably just working, and everything would be back on in a moment.

I turned back around to continue unlocking the outer door. Once opened, I stepped into the entryway for my neighbors and I share, but not before hearing something to my left.

Seriously? Again? I thought as I froze in place.

I let my eyes adjust to the darkness of the entryway and saw my neighbor standing there in her pajamas, peering back at me.

For the love of Pete, I thought, don't these people give any warning? GET A FLASHLIGHT!!!

My neighbor and I chatted for a moment, and I told her the same thing I had told the lurking babushka. She, in turn, asked me if I was a new tenant, and I reported to her my current living situation. Then she began calling to the floor above us for Vlad. I don't know who Vlad is, but I'm guessing he's a man who knows how to fix things. Because Vlad is a man's name...and the lights needed fixing?

When I finally got inside my flat, the lights had all been turned back on.

THE END.

Serpukhov

Serpukhov is a lovely little suburb of Moscow. I went there with a few friends a couple of weeks ago and it was lovely. We just walked around and looked at stuff. Here are some pictures:

This is just a nice little street.

This is just a nice little painting on a gate. It made us laugh.

Sasha? Help me out here. This is the entrance to an old monastery, I think?

I desperately wanted to explore the insides of this building. I can't remember if this was an old church or if it was an old part of the monastery wall...Sasha?

A nice monastery with a nice wall...

Fact: I should really start putting pictures up sooner before I forget all the details.

Funny Stories...

My priest here is a LEGEND.

During one of my first visits to St. Antipa's, I came to confession with Father Vladimir. I handed him my list, which I had thoughtlessly written in English, he looked at it confusedly, realized what I was (an American) and absolved me. This led him to believe that I spoke absolutely no Russian whatsoever. That same day, when I began to approach him to venerate the cross at the end of service, I heard him whispering to the acolyte, "Here comes the American woman. Here she comes. Do you see her? Here she comes. Oh, here she is. Here's the American woman. She's right here. There she goes. There goes the American. Did you see her? She just passed by."

A few weeks following that great moment, I came up to take communion. Father Vladimir knows my name. I'm the only American in our parish. So what does he decide to communion me as? "American woman". Be sure to say that with a heavy Russian accent. I almost died laughing. On that same day during coffee hour, my friends and I are seated and talking, and down comes Father Vladimir playing the blues on the harmonica. WHAT??? He was actually really good at it! I was totally surprised, however, when he walks up to me and is like, "You're an American woman, you know the blues! Sing with me!!" I, regretfully, said no. He proceeds to calm himself for about five minutes before he gets up again and starts walking behind people, blowing the harmonica in their ears to scare them.

THAT is my new priest. Legend.

Not What I Expected...

When I thought “Hey, I’ll move to Moscow”, there were things that, despite all of my scheming, I could never have imagined would happen to me. When I think of Moscow, I think of wild fashions, grumpy babushkie (grandmothers), and enormous churches in the midst of a rapidly disintegrating (yet still very prevalent) Soviet atmosphere. I think of McDonalds on ever street corner, and the groups of young teenagers that loiter there. I also thought, “Yes! The Orthodox Motherland!”, but as it turns out, my naivety and ignorance to spiritual things inhibit my connection with this beautiful piece of Russia.

Many of these things are unexpected but entirely joyful situations I have been placed in as of late:

The gay community in Russia is, I have been told, a rising phenomenon. While many of my students cringe at the mention of gay men, it nevertheless seems to be a force to be reckoned with here. My assumptions as to why this might be are not the point. The point IS to say that, ironically, I have become acquainted with about ten gay men that have treated me better than most men I know ever have. Plus, they’re really fun ☺ They love helping me with my Russian, respect that I am a “religious” Christian (although I’m sure many of them have had negative encounters with religion), produce deep conversation, and are very protective of my eyes and ears. I am very, very appreciative.

I also never thoroughly thought through the process of becoming involved in a church parish. It’s not been a negative experience, merely prolonged. After about 6 weeks, I have finally settled on St. Antipa near the center of the city. Through Matushka Nektaria, I have met friends James and Alevtina, as well as a few others who, in turn, have made kind efforts to include me and encourage me. I wondered if the feeling of awkward solitude would pass because it seemed to last forever, but I think I’m finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I guess I just assumed that since Russia has a rich Orthodox heritage, that I would be swept away in its wake. I will just say that solitude makes you realize more about yourself than you are probably willing to admit. Alas, things are improving, and I continue to hope that they will keep on doing so!

From St. Antipa, I have also been given a few job offers that seem rather promising. One of them I started today—tutoring two young girls (ages 5 & 6) English. They’re seriously SO adorable. Also, my friend James is leaving in December to go back to England, and we’ve been discussing the possibility of me taking over his job. It’s a rather “advantageous” kindergarten teacher position. I was thoughtlessly resigned to my career at Language Link for the next two years, but it’s funny how God is stealthy like that. The only thing is that it would most likely change my plans of moving to a smaller city, and possibly change my summer plans. I’m not worried. Whatever happens is for the best.

Playtime is Over

For the last two weeks, I'd just been meandering around Moscow seeing the sights and doing what tourists are supposed to do. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), playtime in Moscow is over, and I have been given work.

My group Russian lessons have been replaced by individual lessons which began on Monday. My tutor is so helpful and kind. I think she'll help my Russian improve a ton. I'll be meeting with her twice a week for two hours (four hours total).

I also started working yesterday (Tuesday). I'll be teaching on Tuesdays and Thursdays for a school here (as opposed to a building in which Language Link just HAPPENS to have a location). Each time, I have three classes of children ranging from 6-7 year olds, one class of 9 year olds, and one class of 10 year olds. I then have 2 hours for a break that I spend travelling to my next location for a class of beginning adult learners. With lesson planning, preparation, travel time and the classes themselves, I am running to and fro for no less than 12 hours on those days. My young students are absolutely adorable and so well-behaved! It's so nice to have the innocent faces of children looking to you for help rather than the typical Russian skeptic that one usually encounters. But even my adult learners had fun in their class--and after all, that's what makes learning worthwhile, right? I hope to be a teacher who makes learning enjoyable.

I really think I'm going to enjoy this :)

My New Home

St. Basil's...with Freckles?

Some friends and I were out walking around Moscow, and I just thought this was a really neat picture of St. Basil's in Red Square...my camera, on the other hand, thought it was lame and sabotaged it.

The Metro

This is just one of the beautiful metro stations I go in every week. They're typically crowded with people though. Metro stations are perfect places to people-watch. Hilarity ensues.

My Room

This is my room from the doorway. My window faces out onto the street, and evidently everyone who has lived in it hates all the noise and consequently moves to a different room/flat. I, however, fell in love with the noise of the city, so this room and I are a perfect fit. You can't really tell, but the room is very, very long, but not very wide. About 20 ft. x 7ft.

My Bed.

This, quite obviously, is my bed. It has a race car comforter (either that, or it's some awful 1980's mess). It was free, it was clean, so I took it. I don't think you can really tell, but above my bed are some pictures I sporadically collected before I left. Send me pictures, and they will go up there too.

THE WALLPAPER!!!

This is the wallpaper I told you about. Note the lovely garden-like ivy AND the brick--the raised brick. Ridiculous. I love it.

The Kitchen Table

This, ladies and gentlemen, is where it all happens. Actually, you can tell that we don't often use it for the dining table it was meant to be. Anyway, this is how most flats are. There is room for 2, sometimes 3 people to sit comfortably in the kitchen. 4 or 5 people if you cram.


The Other Half of the KitchenI think this is self-explanatory.

You've just had the mini-grand tour of my flat here. It's special.

This is a typical Soviet-style apartment here. Everything is old, and I love it.

New Developments

As of today, I have internet and a telephone in my flat. You can either call me or contact me on Skype (providing I'm there...).

Flat Number: 8-495-369-7127
Skype: Shwalizabeth.

This also means that I don't have to travel 40 minutes to get to free internet anymore!!! I AM SO EXCITED!!!

I'll post another blog tonight with more developments.