Michael McFaul, the Post Office, and Another Dead Man

Last Monday I had the opportunity to attend a lecture at the European University where the US ambassador spoke.  The next day in my international security class we discussed what he had to say.  My professor who had met him before said that his values and priorities still seem to be the same as they were several years ago but she was disturbed by how much he thought Russians didn’t understand the American culture.  When discussing politics with Russians I often get the same response along the lines of that they don’t like how politicians (of any country) seem to poorly represent a country.  Most Russians I have talked to don’t know much about American culture but I would be lying if I said I knew everything about Russian culture before I came.  I guess my point is that while the Ambassador wants Russians to be more aware of American values I think it is just as important that Americans are more aware of Russian values and culture.

After circling the building I found the correct entrance to the post office and was on my way to pick up the anticipated package from my mom.  The post office is huge and kind of reminds me of an old American train station.  When you walk in you are in a huge room that have about 50 different windows each with its own number (that randomly flash on and off).  I had no idea what to do and there were hardly any signs that might have indicated where to go.  After finding the foreign window I handed my package slip to the woman behind the window and she went to get my package.  She came back holding a giant size trash bag that she began to tear open.  She thought it was so funny how such a small package ended up in such a big bag and could not stop laughing.  She was one of the funniest Russians I have met so far.  Not the most exciting story, I know, but walking in the post office felt like a metaphor for my life here in Russia.  Nothing is clear, there isn’t always someone to ask for help, but eventually you find the right window and can have a good laugh at yourself in the end.

It’s sad that this is the second time I am writing about a dead man in less than a month.  Today as I was walking in my neighborhood I noticed a man sitting in the snow.  He caught my attention because I thought it was weird someone was sitting in the snow or better yet slush since it’s starting to warm up.  I quickly realized that he was sitting there because there was a man who had either died or been killed lying in the snow.  I had to stop walking because I literally couldn’t breath and couldn’t even speak to tell the friend I was walking with why I had stopped.  I barely had the courage to keep walking since I knew I would have to get literally feet from the situation.  I do not know if the man knew the deceased or not but from what it looked like he had found him lying there and then turned him over to see if he was alive.  I almost hope he didn’t because I am slightly disturbed by this aspect of the Russian culture and his sacrifice sitting in the slush as it started to snow with the dead man would show a sense of humanity towards the situation.  

I think it is safe to say that Russians (from an American perspective) have a reputation for being cold and unfriendly.  On Thursday I was in a café/restaurant where you generally share tables with other people because its usually crowded and the tables are pretty big.  The table I was at was comprised of my friends and a woman by herself.  The woman ordered something close to fried dough and didn’t realize how much she would get.  She offered us what she couldn’t finish which in itself was a nice gesture.  Then maybe because we ate her leftovers so quickly she ordered us two more plates, paid and left.  It was one of the nicest gestures I have ever received.  On top of that, last night my friends and I were walking to the bus stop when someone gave my friend and I a rose.  Touched by her kindness, we gave the rose to a new bride that we past later in the evening.

Lastly, GO ORANGE!!  

International Women's Day and Dead Man

I couldn’t decide if it was a better to talk about the good or the bad first, then I decided it doesn’t really matter so Ill save the “worst for last”.

So first the good! Last Friday was International Women’s Day.  However, the international part does not include the United States (I hope to change that next year).  Originally, the holiday was to celebrate the liberation of women from the home and into the work force.  Now, on March 8^th women get the day off from work and school (only slightly ironic) and are showered with flowers, chocolates and other small gifts.  Traditionally men will cook and clean on this day but from what I have witnessed most men have to go to work since all the women have the day off.  For me it meant a trip to starbucks and dinner with a bunch of girls from my university. 

I also have kind of a side story but it was on women’s day so I guess it counts…

I have heard that Russian dorms are extremely strict and miserable to live in (particularly in Moscow).  My first time in a Russian dorm was on Friday to have dinner with people from my university.  Anytime there is a guest they have to be “signed in” and leave their ID with the person at the entrance.  The guy who was at the entrance was so drunk and only got drunker when we were trying to leave.  It took us forever to get out IDs back because one second he would be handing them to us and the next he would forget and be giving us a lecture or asking us questions.  Finally, after a long lecture about how we broke their policy in some way or another (I’m not sure he even knew what he was talking about) he finally gave us our IDs back.  Not the most exciting story but it was a very different experience than a dorm back in the states. 

Now the bad.  Last Thursday I was walking to school and saw a dead man lying in the street.  At first seeing a dead person alone just gave me the chills but then it was more than that.  People were just walking by him, glancing, and then pretending like he wasn’t even there.  NOBODY even cared.  The police weren’t even doing anything; they were just waiting in their car waiting for someone to come take pictures for the accident report.  I later found out that Russia has a law that after someone is killed they can’t be moved until the accident report has been finished and this can take hours.  It was sad that not even his family was there let alone that no one else seemed to be bothered by the once living person lying dead on the side of the road.  

21 Candles

Last Sunday was my 21^st birthday.  I thought turning 21 in Russia would be slightly disappointing since the 21^st birthday is only a big deal in the United States.  However, I had one of the best birthdays I have ever had (aside from the fact that all of you reading this weren’t there). 

First, I will give some insight into the cultural mindset regarding birthdays here in Russia.  Back in the states, I have heard on more than one occasion “I don’t really care about my birthday” or “My birthday isn’t really a big deal”.  This is something you would never say in Russia.  In fact, not telling people it is your birthday is almost considered rude.  A birthday in Russia is a day that celebrates how fortunate you are to be alive and healthy.  While worldwide (including the USA) a birthday is meant to celebrate your life, I think this meaning is sometimes lost or overshadowed by materialistic desires.  You might be able to see now how saying you don’t care about your birthday is actually a selfish thing to say.  Instead embrace your birthday!!

On the day before, of, and after my birthday I was showered by flowers, chocolate, and alcohol from my best friends to people I had just met.  Russians have a stereotype for being unfriendly, rude or cold people but I don’t think I have ever met such kind people.  Their generosity and kindness was overwhelming on my birthday.  I wasn’t the only American who thought this either; other Americans on my program made comments about how thoughtful these Russians had acted and that you would never see this in the states.  This particular experience will forever be embedded in my memory.