Meggan's Random Russia

There are a lot of different and weird things that happen here that I find interesting but wouldn't exactly make up an entire blog post. Here are a few:

• On the farms over here, female tractor drivers are called tractoristas. It sounds like they should be able to make fancy coffee too.
• Apparently, because this is company housing some people don't feel the need to knock. I just had a truck driver open my front door and come in to ask for directions.
• You will get yelled at by a Babushka if you don't have a hat on your kid, even if it isn't particularly cold or sunny or windy. 
• Eggs come in packs of 10 instead of 12, and they don't need to be refrigerated because they haven't been washed. While that does free up room in my teeny tiny fridge, it is disconcerting to see poop and feathers on your eggs.
• If shop keepers think that you don't need something, they won't sell it to you. My friend tried to buy a diaper bucket without a baby and was told she didn't need it so she couldn't have it.
• It seems like all the women wear nylons. It is a little odd to see a teenager with shiny old lady legs under her super short skirt.
• Most of the grocery stores won't let you take a cart out to your car, so you have to be careful not to buy more than you can carry.
• All the dairy products come with the milk fat percentages on the front of them. 1% or 0% milk fat is really hard to find. That could be because we are out in the boonies. It might be easier in a big city.
• There is only one gas station in our town of 15,000 people! Getting gas is a real ordeal for me, especially when it is just me and AJ. I have to hold her while I try and pull the hose over the truck to fill up both tanks. Recently the company gas card didn't work and they had to shut down a pump for 30 minutes while I tried to get it straightened out with an interpreter. Needless to say, I am not super popular at the gas station.
• There are two kinds of people in the world. People who slow down what they are saying when they realize you don't speak their language, and PEOPLE WHO JUST RAISE THE VOLUME OF THEIR VOICE BUT CONTINUE TO SPEAK AT THE SAME SPEED AND THROW IN A LOT OF EXTRA WORDS JUST FOR FUN!
• Everything needs to be stamped. To get out of the electronics store in the mall you need three stamps on your receipt. I had to get a stamp and special permission to drive Dave's work truck. 
• Here you can break up packs of things with no problem, you can buy one diaper or one yogurt. Beer doesn't come in packs or cases, but it does come in lovely half liter bottles for an extra 4 ounces per beer!
• Nobody sells ice! You have to really plan ahead to have frosty cocktails.
• There are small random cemeteries all over the place. There is one behind our house. What I don't get is there aren't quite enough of them if you consider how long Russia has been a country. What were the doing with all those dead bodies before the 1800's?

I am a little home sick right now. I could sure go for an iced coffee and a gossip magazine and a pedicure and my mom. Oh well, no one said being an international ranch wife of mystery would be easy. 

The Nod

Russian people really don't want to wave at you. I was taking it pretty personally when we first got here. I waved at the farm workers, I waved at the villagers, I waved at people driving by, and I got blank stares in return. It was really bumming me out. Then I started watching the people around here more, and it wasn't that they were unfriendly, they just don't wave. If someone is giving you a casual friendly greeting here they are much more inclined to nod.

Eureka! When I figured that out I started to nod at everybody. I nodded at the farm workers and they nodded back. I nodded at the villagers and they nodded back. I nodded at people driving by and they drove off the rode from trying to drive and nod. Just kidding, they nodded back. It was like I had broken the hello code. I realize it might not seem like that big of a deal, but in Northeastern Nevada almost every car that I passed on my way into town waved at me. I was feeling pretty lonely here.

Not only do they nod, you can kind of gauge how happy someone is to see you based on how big the nod is. One of my acquaintances in the nearest village practically nods from his waist when I drive by. It is pretty gratifying, but difficult to return on that scale while driving. Sometimes I slip up because my first instinct is to wave. The engineer/ mechanic on our farm will wave back, but the face he makes while he is doing it makes me think he is just humoring the silly American lady who can't get her stuff together enough to remember to nod. 

Decorating Chicken

When Dave and I first arrived in Russia we did a lot more exploring than we do now. We were really interested in checking out the open market in Unecha. We arrived a little late in the day for the open market, they usually wrap up around one, so all of the stalls weren't open. We wandered up and down the aisles checking out the various good. One stall was full of velvet paintings, and that is where we saw it in full velvet glory. A half naked Egyptian lady hanging out with her buddy the lion, you know, chilling. 

Dave said he had to have it. Money was no object, it must be his. He would proudly display it here in Russia and then we would somehow get it home with us, and that lovely velvet painting would be on display in the Voth home for many years to come. Ten years in, I know when Dave is joking. But sometimes you just have to roll with things and see how they play out. We decided that we would forgo the painting that day, but if we saw it again of course we would have to get it.

A few weeks later we were looking to buy a baby walker for AJ and happened upon another copy of the best painting in the world in Surazh. This one was smaller and not on velvet, so while not as totally awesome, it was a little more portable and a lot fewer Rubles. Dave threatened again to buy it, and I persuaded him that we should wait until we knew exactly where in the house we should hang it. So, we bought the walker and promptly forgot about it.

A few weeks ago I went to Bryansk with some of the other Americans while Dave had to work. We went to the Metro which is a huge Costco like store with a ton of imported stuff. I was looking through some picture frames in the back of the store when I stumbled upon it. A giant poster of the painting. At 300 Rubles it was too good a deal to pass up. I knew that if I bought it there was a pretty good chance I would have to hang it up, but I figured the look on Dave's face when I brought it in from the truck would be worth years of a painting I don't particularly like. 

I made it home with only a few dents to the poster, and opened the door and said, "You are about to tell me that I am totally awesome and the best wife ever." I went back out to the truck and brought the poster back in. Dave did a double take and then laughed his butt off. That was worth the 300 Rubles, but now I do have it hanging up. Luckily it is in the bedroom so hardly anyone will see it, but it does make our taste in artwork a little more suspect to have this masterpiece in the boudoir.

All The Blueberries Ever.

                One of my favorite things to do here is go to the open market. It is kind of like a farmer’s market and a flea market combined.  Every town has one, and you can find all kinds of awesome things. The language barrier isn’t too hard to overcome and when it is the worst thing that happens is you come home with way too many blueberries. I’m not kidding. I just bought like 11 cups of blueberries on accident. I have already made blueberry cake and blueberry cobbler and I still have like 7 cups left. I have come to the end of my blueberry utilization skills. 

                The lady that was selling the blueberries had a huge bucket full and I asked how much they were and she said 150  Rubles, so I said, “horosho.” Which I thought meant, “OK, let me have a reasonable amount of blueberries and I will pay you 150 Rubles, roughly three dollars.” Apparently, it was 150 for the whole bucket.  I really like having fresh produce, and I also like contributing to the local economy, especially considering that the ladies at the market are the nicest I’ve met in Russia. I still don’t know numbers past 10, so usually I just pull out a handful of coins and they pick out what they need. Some of them count them out as they take them, probably trying to get me to learn to count.

                They set up their wares in two lines lining the path to the entrance of the market. When I get there I walk up and down checking all the produce out before I purchase anything and they try and sell me everything they have. I end up saying, “Nia nada,” a lot which means, “I don’t need it.” I don’t know if it is because my pronunciation is funny or if they are charmed with my half assed attempts to speak Russian because they always repeat what I say back to me. When one of them asked if AJ was a boy or a girl and I said, “Doch” which means, “daughter” they all said it back to me and laughed their butts off.

                I usually just buy a ton of tomatoes because I know how to prepare them. You know the feeling you get when someone is talking about you? One of the last times I went I heard one of the ladies saying something about tomatoes. And in my head I thought, “This crazy American. She must eat nothing but tomatoes. I tell you these Americans LOVE tomatoes!” And while I do love tomatoes I don’t want to contribute to any weird stereotypes.