Journal entry for 10 March 2011 (translated from Russian)
I don’t know if you can call this a routine, but ever since I moved, things have become a bit calmer. I finally have a set schedule, I’ve attended two rehearsals of the Gnessin Musical College’s concert band, etc. But I don’t know if I’ve reached the point of “routine”. I still feel lost in this huge city, and I can’t say I think Muscovites are the best people (or, should I say, people living in Moscow, since most people in Moscow aren’t actually Muscovites). But I still think every day is a tiny bit better than the last, which I also felt when I was in Irkutsk, the rate was just a lot faster there…
12 March 2011
I just thought of something. Yesterday, when I was in the supermarket Perekryostok (“crossroad”), I think I saw a few different facets of the Russian personality, or soul if you will, within the span of ten minutes.
I walked into the store wearing my backpack (which I apparently was supposed to wrap in plastic on my way in, or leave in a locker or something, oops!) and within five minutes I knocked over a little glass bottle of an unknown liquid, causing it to shatter. This item cost 31 rubles (a little more than a buck). Almost immediately a guy, an employee I’m guessing, approached me and started questioning me about how this all happened, making sure to make me feel like a criminal. After I tried to explain to him that it was a complete accident and that I was just walking and sluchayno knocked it over with my backpack, another guy, a customer, jumped into the conversation at the scene of the crime and blurted out that if it was a complete accident I’m not liable to pay anything, and that I could call the police if anyone tried to make me pay for anything.
After the second guy left, the employee tried a little longer to make me pay, saying we could spend 10.000 rubles trying to figure this out with the police if I wanted to. Eventually he just walked away, frustrated. Keep in mind this was all about something that cost 31 rubles.
When I was in line to pay for my müsli and deodorant, there was a lady next to me who I wanted to cut in front of, seeing as I only had two items. While I was in line, David called, and I took this as an opportunity to let her know I was a nice foreigner who meant her no harm. I told David I was near Yolki-Palki and to wait for me near there. After hanging up I decided to ask the lady in front of me what kind of restaurant Yolki-Palki was (this was all for small-talk; I had been to Yolki-Palki before and knew perfectly well what kind of restaurant it was, and either way I had no intention of eating there with David). After our little chit-chat, the lady told me I could go in front of her, seeing as I only had two items.
Why did she let me go ahead of her? I don’t think it’s because she hadn’t seen me before David's call. It’s because I was no longer a neznakomyj chelovek, an “unfamiliar” or “unknown” person, much-feared above almost all people by Russians. Or maybe she simply hadn’t noticed me before. But I like to think I’m starting to figure out how to act around Russians, and how to “give them what they want”, in this case letting the lady know I wasn't this dangerous man trying to steal her groceries. But why this inexplicable fear? Why try to avoid any contact whatsoever with all “unknown” people? These are just a few of the many questions that frequently go through my head in Russia. You’d think by know I would have learned to be comfortable with confusion. Guess not.
Comments, advice, thoughts appreciated.
I don’t know if you can call this a routine, but ever since I moved, things have become a bit calmer. I finally have a set schedule, I’ve attended two rehearsals of the Gnessin Musical College’s concert band, etc. But I don’t know if I’ve reached the point of “routine”. I still feel lost in this huge city, and I can’t say I think Muscovites are the best people (or, should I say, people living in Moscow, since most people in Moscow aren’t actually Muscovites). But I still think every day is a tiny bit better than the last, which I also felt when I was in Irkutsk, the rate was just a lot faster there…
12 March 2011
I just thought of something. Yesterday, when I was in the supermarket Perekryostok (“crossroad”), I think I saw a few different facets of the Russian personality, or soul if you will, within the span of ten minutes.
I walked into the store wearing my backpack (which I apparently was supposed to wrap in plastic on my way in, or leave in a locker or something, oops!) and within five minutes I knocked over a little glass bottle of an unknown liquid, causing it to shatter. This item cost 31 rubles (a little more than a buck). Almost immediately a guy, an employee I’m guessing, approached me and started questioning me about how this all happened, making sure to make me feel like a criminal. After I tried to explain to him that it was a complete accident and that I was just walking and sluchayno knocked it over with my backpack, another guy, a customer, jumped into the conversation at the scene of the crime and blurted out that if it was a complete accident I’m not liable to pay anything, and that I could call the police if anyone tried to make me pay for anything.
After the second guy left, the employee tried a little longer to make me pay, saying we could spend 10.000 rubles trying to figure this out with the police if I wanted to. Eventually he just walked away, frustrated. Keep in mind this was all about something that cost 31 rubles.
When I was in line to pay for my müsli and deodorant, there was a lady next to me who I wanted to cut in front of, seeing as I only had two items. While I was in line, David called, and I took this as an opportunity to let her know I was a nice foreigner who meant her no harm. I told David I was near Yolki-Palki and to wait for me near there. After hanging up I decided to ask the lady in front of me what kind of restaurant Yolki-Palki was (this was all for small-talk; I had been to Yolki-Palki before and knew perfectly well what kind of restaurant it was, and either way I had no intention of eating there with David). After our little chit-chat, the lady told me I could go in front of her, seeing as I only had two items.
Why did she let me go ahead of her? I don’t think it’s because she hadn’t seen me before David's call. It’s because I was no longer a neznakomyj chelovek, an “unfamiliar” or “unknown” person, much-feared above almost all people by Russians. Or maybe she simply hadn’t noticed me before. But I like to think I’m starting to figure out how to act around Russians, and how to “give them what they want”, in this case letting the lady know I wasn't this dangerous man trying to steal her groceries. But why this inexplicable fear? Why try to avoid any contact whatsoever with all “unknown” people? These are just a few of the many questions that frequently go through my head in Russia. You’d think by know I would have learned to be comfortable with confusion. Guess not.
Comments, advice, thoughts appreciated.
