Since I have been basically without internet for the better part of a year in Russia, when I got to my hostel in Norway and discovered fast and reliable internet, I seized it. At night, I plopped down on a chair, and surfed the web. It was glorious. During the course of my internetting, an older Indian couple came into the internet area (where there was also a kitchen) and cooked some food, sat at another table, and ate. The next evening, like a true creature of habit, I sat down at the same seat and surfed the net. The next evening I came down a bit later than the first two nights, and I saw that the Indian couple had sat in my seat. And I know that I didn’t have any right to that seat, but sadly, I was offended that I had to move. It made me reflect. Why did the Indian couple take my seat? And more importantly, why was this such a big problem. Things to think about I guess.

I was taking the local train the other day up to the ski jump tower in Oslo. It’s a pretty impressive thing. Super high up, and a way to get a great view of the city. However, the train is long and slow, due to the steep climb. The first stop we made a whole hoard of Norwegians came on the train with their coffee and baked goods. I guess they assumed I was American. (How do people do that?) And they started speaking in English to each other in the most horrid accent I have ever heard. They were trying to imitate a southern California beach goer ( I would have to presume…) “yeah, I would like an espresso with two shots. No sugar. No sugar. Yeah thanks.” The ‘yeah’ was overly drawn out. “yeah, no sugar, make that triple shot. Yeah no sugar. No sugar.” they kept repeating these awful phrases of what I would presume they think Americans talk about. Our love of espresso. Then they would slip back into Norwegian, and every once in a while I would hear “starbucks” “yeah” “espresso” and “no sugar” mixed in with their conversation. I’m pretty sure they were trying to make fun of our dependency on coffee. But I thought it was quite ironic that they themselves were sipping coffee as they made their romp. Well, regardless, just to piss them off, when I got off the train, I started talking to them in Russian. Asking them directions and stuff. I hope I thoroughly confused them. But I guess through my travels I have learned the hatred so many people have towards Americans. And maybe some of their criticisms are justified. We usually are loud and annoying when we go places. Our country is not environmentally minded. I mean in Norway and Finland, there was not a speck of trash on the floor. No one litters. Recycling bins are just as plenty as trash bins. Hardly any cars. Most people bikes or uses public transport. But I don’t think it is justified to make fun of every American that crosses their path. I am for the most part not like all the things that they don’t like about Americans. Also, I find it very frustrating that many people in Europe are somewhat raised, I feel, to have a distance towards capitalism. And since America symbolizes that, many dislike Americans just for that reason. Yet, the kids making fun of me on the train were wearing Nike shoes, listening to American music on their American Ipods, drinking American coke with their coffee. The hypocrisy is just so frustrating. But this was an isolated incident, and as a whole, Norwegians have been more than kind.

After Helsinki I went to Norway. Oslo. It’s a beautiful place. Expensive. Very expensive. Let me give you some perspective. 1 USD equals about 25 Rubles. 1 USD equals about 5 Norwegian Crowns (NOK.) When I look at the prices, for example, a bottle of coke, and it is 30 NOK, my first instinct, is to divide by 25, like I did so many times in Russia. A little over a dollar. Not bad. But then I remember that its NOK instead, and instead of it being a little over a buck, it is 5 dollars. Everything here is like that. If they were ruble prices, they would seem reasonable, maybe a bit pricey. But then to find that everything is five times that. It is painful. I don’t know how people do it. But my advice, invest in Norwegian things. Man. Really.

The first real day in Helsinki I didn’t have enough euros on me. I hadn’t had a chance to go to an ATM. But I was so thirsty. I was buying some water for about 1 euro. I asked if I could use my credit card. And their answer was “yes” without hesitation. In Russia, credit cards are not allowed basically anywhere except for an ATM. It is a strictly cash only country. Which is a problem. Lots of counterfeit money. Another thing is that the women in Helsinki were wearing sweatpants, and most were not wearing heels, and very little makeup. It was so nice. In Russia, sweatpants are basically forbidden. High heels are the uniform as well as oodles and oodles of makeup. It was so refreshing to see people wearing ‘normal’ clothes. Also, I got lost once, and asked for directions, and the Finn gave me accurate directions. Never would happen in Russia. EVER. The bathrooms in the malls were free. Unlike in Russia where they are home to mean babyshki and are quite costly and frankly unsanitary. In fact if I ever had to use the bathroom in Russia, often I would try to just go home instead. Or if I knew that would not be practical, I would just not drink, to avoid the situation all together. Bathrooms in Russia are really that bad. But despite the fact that Finland, and most of the world is better than Russia, I am still going to miss that silly upside down place.

So to get out of Russia, I took a bus to Finland. It was a night bus, obviously catered to Russians. Everything was conducted in Russia, which at that point, was no big deal. But still, when I talk, it is clear that I am a foreigner. Note to self, work on Russian accent. Anyway. The bus experience as a whole was awful. On a small part, it was nice. The bus was comfortable. That’s the end of the positive list. On the negative side. At the Russian border we got stopped more than five times to see our documents. And since I am not Russian, I was under even more scrutiny. There was even a Serb on the bus with us. We had to wait over an hour at passport control while they carted him away somewhere for questioning. Simply because he was Serbian. And the Russians didn’t want to make it easier. The Serbian spoke Serbian and English, but not Russian. And border control spoke only Russian. I offered to be a translator. But of course that would make things easier, so they declined. After horrible border control we continued our journey to Helsinki. I dozed off. It was after all 4am. And for anyone who knows me, I am the extreme opposite of a night owl. I had told the woman who worked for the bus line that I wanted to get off at the Helsinki train station. This was thoroughly discussed. Her response to me a few times was, “but the trains won’t be running that early.” I knew that. I was planning on catching a bus that picked up right outside of the train station to go to my friend’s apartment. I had been there once before, so I knew what I needed to do assuming that I was at the train station. Right before I fell asleep I asked the woman again if we would make a stop at the train station. And again she said yes. I was asleep. For some reason I woke up. And I saw out of my window, us pulling away from the train station! I ran to the woman, ready to strangle her. “STOP!!!” I yelled. She looked at me with a puzzled look. “why?” was her response. Stupid, xenophobic woman. “We are pulling away from the train station. I need to go there.” The woman looked confused. “We are going to the bus station now,” she said with almost a smirk. They weren’t going to stop the bus. Finally I had to get in the stairs of the bus until the driver agreed to let me out. I was steaming! I know the woman just wanted to screw me over. Its just because I wasn’t Russian. A way for her to get back at capitalists, people, whom she has been bred to hate. I decided not to push the issue further. Hopped off the bus, and (yes I know it is very uncharacteristic) flipped off the bus as it drove away.
But the Serb, obviously pissed off at Russians as well, with the border control interrogation and all, decided to hop off the bus with me. He helped me take my bags to the bus stop. It was early. Too early for the buses to run. I was going to wait for about 4 hours until the buses began to run. The Serb and I were prepared to wait. But there was a surprisingly large amount of people hanging around the bus stop. I found out that there was a night bus, that runs once a night on Fridays and Saturdays to take all the party people home. Two kind Finns saw that I had a lot of stuff and asked what I was doing. I told them that I was waiting until the buses were going to run. The Finns looked at each other, and almost without hesitation offered to let me stay at their place until a more decent hour. I was so impressed with their kindness. The Serb declined their offer. But I agreed. **Note to the parentals if you are reading this** don’t hate me or get angry. I was responsible, and nothing happened. The Finns even payed for my bus ticket. Made me a really nice bed, and drove me to where I needed to go the next morning. Helping to carry my bags along the way. It was very nice. One of the many things that makes Finland better than Russia.

Aside from the fact that the baby has no name, which is very very disturbing. Over the past few days that I was with my host family, I began to pickup on some strange peculiarities which I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
The first: I heard my host mother and sister talk about “pampers” (which in Russian is the catch all phrase for ‘diapers’) and how they don’t need anymore. This was strange. I thought babies pooped a lot. Maybe by ‘don’t need anymore’ she meant, to add the phrase, ‘for the next hour.’ I brushed it aside.
The second: everyday I saw hanging in the shower room five to six little baby jumpers, (in Russia, dryers do not exist, so all clothes must be hung up to dry.) Each and every day new jumpers would be hanging. How can a little kid sweat enough to make five to six jumpers dirty everyday. It doesn’t eat really. It doesn’t go out and play in the mud. What is causing the constant need to clean these jumpers. I didn’t really think about it further. The third: the little I saw of the hedgehog, I noticed that his bottom did not look all the bulky. I know from teaching little brats how to swim, that when kids wear ‘pampers’ their rumps are huge. Diapers are not a small affair. They take up quite a bit of space. Anyway, maybe infant diapers are tiny. Like microscopic tiny. I brushed it aside.
UNTIL>>>I came home earlier than usual one day from school and I wanted to wash my hands from the filth that is St. Pete. I went to the sink, to find my host sister and her hedgehog in there. The hedgehog’s butt was in the sink. I just caught a glance. I couldn’t fully comprehend the scene. I was embarrassed for barging in. I quickly left. But then I started to put all the evidence together. Everything was adding up to the fact that they don’t use diapers for the kid, and instead just use his jumpers, and when he poops, they just change the jumper. And from the barging in, I discovered that they wash his rump in the sink…where I brush my teeth! UGH! Anyway. At this point it was just merely a speculation. Until the second to last day I was in Russia I went to wash my hands and brush my teeth and saw a plop of poop in the sink. I almost vomited. I am not even kidding. It solidified everything I thought. I got dressed and ran out of the apartment. I think I scared my host mother, because I left without breakfast and without telling her where I was going. I was just so grossed out. I guess I got to see a rare glimpse into the child rearing of Russians. And I am not too happy that I was privy to it.

So it has been awhile since my last entry. Again I apologize. I’ve been busy. So since my last log in. I have left Russia. The baby has still not been named. When I left, my host sister decided to call him “little hedgehog” due to the fact that he “hedgehogged” which apparently is when a person shrugs theirs shoulders up and down a lot. A characteristic which the little tyke did often. But then I thought about it more, and this was because no one ever supported his head. Now I’m not one to really know all that much about babies, but I know enough to know that an infant’s head must be supported because their trachea are not solidified yet, and can flatten and suffocate them. The little hedgehog was probably trying not to suffocate, that is why it hedgehogged. Also, the fact that in the Russian language there is a verb—to hedgehog—is ridiculous. I think that sums it up. So many questions as to why I am studying Russian. Really, a verb to hedgehog. I mean I guess we have to waddle, but to hedgehog is a bit of a stretch.

The other day in class we were learning this stupid grammar topic. Anyway, we had sentences, and then had to give logical advice using the newly learned grammar rule. The girl’s sentence next to me was, “your friend is getting ready for his conference in America.” The girl’s advice was, “It is worth it to go to America.” The teacher said, “very good” and we moved on to the next question. I was confused. Why would someone give advice to go to America when they are already going to America. The girl who answered this question is not very good at Russian, and I assumed that the teacher just didn’t listen to her, because she is a lost cause. So I interrupted and asked if that answer is logical or not. I would have said something like “visit New York” or “watch out for Pick Pocketers” “Try a bagel,” something along those lines. It was important for me to understand which one is the more logical answer, because for this particular grammar topic, a wrong answer would mean that we didn’t understand the slight nuance in the sentence (of which we were learning.) At my question, the teacher’s response to me was “are you of an Asian background?” what? “Because I have been noticing for awhile now that you seem to have Asian traits”
How does that answer my question?!? I told her that I took Japanese for two years in high school, and that other than that, no. She then told me that I have the mentality of an Asian. Something about how I, like Asians, look at the world from a large point of view, and go in, whereas western culture looks at the small details and then goes out. I wasn’t quite sure how this was relevant to my question. Or that these blank generalizations were true. She then told me that most children have this mentality, but then quickly change. To which I was offended. And then she told me that she used to teach Asians, but couldn’t anymore because she just didn’t understand their mentality. And she feels so bad for all the teachers who have to teach the Asians now. Argh. Not that I really care if I have an “Asian” way of thinking or not, but the fact that my teacher said that she cant stand working with Asians was bad, because I have had this teacher for two terms, and this means that everyday she has been frustrated with my way of thinking. Seriously. I really had no idea what she was talking about, or how my question related. But to make everything worse was that the stupid girl who originally said the stupid answer looked all smug during the whole discussion. As if she is so perfect. She even came up to me at the end of class and said, “yeah the logical answer was mine, not yours” Steam was rising from my head. !!!!!

sO I know its been a while since my last post. A lot has happened. On Cinco de Mayo, but host sister had a baby. 10 fingers, ten toes, good length, good weight. All good. Yet, I have not seen the baby yet. No, its not because I haven’t been home. Its not because the baby is an alien baby that has been taken back to its home planet. Its because, by Russian law, all babies must remain in the hospital, along with their mother’s, for a minimum of 6 days after the birth. Maybe this is Russia’s way of curbing disease. I mean the idea makes sense. Keep the baby under lock and key, monitor the baby. Keep the mother for six days, completely bored. Not even being able to see the baby until day two, for fear that the mother has some disease. Of course, Russia could just fix this problem of extended hospital stays by having cleaner hospitals. Just a thought. In fact, most children in Russia are very sickly. One day in one of my classes we were discussing illness and missing school. Our teacher was shocked when we told her that when we are sick as youngsters with the cold, we will miss one or two days of school. This is a combination of the fact that our parents usually cant take off my than that many days of school, and that in a couple of days we are all better. My teacher was shocked. In Russia, when a student is ill it is a mandatory 10 days off from school. And one of the parents also takes off work, although, in Russia, it is usually always the woman. I mean really, 10 days for the cold? If I had to be out of school for ten days, then I would have been in the hospital, ie, with some serious disease or ailment. But I think it comes from a different perspective on life. Russians describe themselves as having a national character of “laziness” so maybe that is the root of all of this.

This story actually happened last semester. But it is so good that I thought I must write about it. The story takes place on a crowded metro car. I am standing near the doorway. Usually on the metro, there are handrails attached to the roof of the car, and are high up. But there is a bit of railing near the doorway attached to the seats. Since I am a bit vertically challenged, if given the chance, I always opt for the low positioned hand rails. And this day was no exception. At the first stop a mother and her young daughter of about 8 entered the already too crowded car. Lots of pushing and shoving. The doors slammed shut, and with a violent jerk we were off. The little girl stumbled by the jerk, and without any handle bar to hold, almost fell to the ground. The mother caught her. I could see that this girl needed my primary real estate of hand rail. I gave her the head gesture, which of course meant, “want the hand rail?” the mother and daughter eagerly shook their heads in agreement. I moved away from the handrail, and the daughter and mother took my spot. The girl, so overjoyed by the unprecedented kindness that I displayed began to recite me poetry. Of course, this was very early on in the semester last year, so I don’t know what the poem was about, but it was quite lyrical. A few times she forgot the line, and her beaming mother helped her out. Even though we were on a crowded metro car, the poetry reading was private, just for me. The little girl never took her eyes off of me. It was just me and her all alone on the car. At the end of the reading, I gave a slight nod of my head, to show my appreciation, and then we were not alone anymore. The next stop soon came, people came and went. I got shoved deeper into the metro car, the girl disappeared. But not forgotten. Certainly not forgotten