Revenge of the Owls (Saint Pete's Part 2)

The next day we went on a series of tours where we saw amazing things like the Hermitage. Honestly I was too tired from the 6 mile trek with all of my belongings from Rainbow to Azimut where the Lily group was staying to really comprehend a lot of what I saw. After the tour we checked into our next hostel which translates to Science Hostel. It was in an alley with cats screeching like they were being disemboweled and our we all stayed in one beautiful room. The catch was that the hostel owner was sleeping in the living room so that was kind of strange.  Our last day there we thought it would be a good time to get our souvenirs while the rest of the group went on their extravagant tour we couldn't afford. However we were doing this under the impression that the group would come back for us to take us to the train station with them. Apparently they had different plans that involved leaving two young girls alone in Saint Pete's to fend for ourselves and then get ourselves to the train station on infant level Russian. Thankfully Saint Aliona, our tour guide, called us a cab so that we could at least get to the train station to meet our group.  So Lauren and I set out to go purchase a million matryoshka owls (one of our friends at the home base is a Chi O and wanted us to get them for her). After visiting every stand in the city, we finally just went back to the stand where we had originally seen them on the first day and our owl dealer recognized us. After some confusion over why we wanted 7 owls, the fact that we did not think 7 Putin matryoshkas were a suitable replacement, countless calls to his owl associated, and a heavy dose of hooting and acting like an owl we walked out half an hour later with six owls for the price of three and zero dignity.  By the time we were done with the gift ordeal, it was time for us to meet our cab. Cabs in Russia are not like those in the US. Here, they can be marked or unmarked and in just about any kind of car you could think of. After 40 minutes of standing on the corner in the rain and getting creepy stares from Russian men, we jumped in a cab and showed him the paper Saint Aliona gave us with directions for where he should take us to which he simply responded, "no" and started driving. One brief bout with vertigo and a panic attack later we arrived at what he insisted was our train station so we got out and eagerly awaited the arrival of our group. 45 minutes later after we had started standing back to back against a building (partly so we would see them from any angle but mostly for security) Saint Aliona came bounding up to us looking as surprised and relieved that she had found us as someone who just let their mentally challenged puppy off the leash to walk back home. She informed us that our group had decided it was a better idea to go eat at the mall next door first and then come find the two young girls standing alone in the rain because really, what is a trip to Saint Petersburg without someone from your group being abducted?! The train ride back was the same sweet hell I remembered from the first train ride except this time instead of being freezing, we left the windows closed and were in our own little sweat box the whole time. Somewhere along this ride my roommate got bitten by a train bug of death and now she has a club foot.  And that was my trip to Saint Petersburg.

That One Time I Thought I was going to Become a Sister Wife aka That One Time I Caught Neck Hepatitis aka My Trip To Saint Petersburg... COVERED IN OWLS. (Part 1)

So I went to Saint Petersburg. And I came back. The fact that I came back seems like it is trivial information to give, but believe me, I'm having a VERY hard time believing that I came back with only minimal psychological damage.  In case you are unaware...like I was... the train to Saint Petersburg can be as long as 17 hours. This is not because it actually takes 17 hours to get there. Actually, I don't know that I could tell you why it takes 17 hours. Our train went about as fast as a bicycle and stopped every half hour for no apparent reason other than just to take a break from moving.  But this was nothing compared to where we had to sleep on the train. Since it was such a long train ride, the train was equipped with beds. I use the term beds as loosely as possible. These were to beds as a piece of cardboard is to shoes (a little SAT prep for you there). The mattresses we were provided looked as though they had been left over from WWII and had not been washed since. Can someone say "bedbugs!?" But in case you were afraid of catching any mattress herpes bugs, don't worry! They provide a (what we hoped was) sanitary sheet set the consistency of hard tissues to keep you safe and warm (let me clarify in case you were confused, these did not keep you safe or warm at all. If anything this sheet made you hotter when it was hot and colder when it was cold). To set this up required an acrobatic show worthy of Cirque du Soliel. Why was the set up so difficult, you ask!? Because they were bunk beds. By bunk beds I mean one precariously placed bench directly above another that you were supposed to be able to climb in a moving vehicle with nothing more than a step the size of a cell phone, a very inconveniently placed diagonal metal pole, and all the momentum you could muster in the one square foot you had to propel you up there. Oh and there was only about a foot between the bed and the ceiling once you got up there so giving yourself a concussion at some point was pretty much included in the price of the train ticket. That and the smell of stagnant body odor/ cigarette/ mold air was even stronger that high up so naturally you would want to open your window (because to top off the smells, it was about 180 degrees... Or whatever temperature is necessary for the walls around you to start sweating). A warning to anyone who will ever ride on a Russian train. DO NOT OPEN THE WINDOWS. EVER. At night, even though the sun essentially doesn't set, it is COLD LIKE SIBERIA. And that damn tissue blanket isn't doing anything to trap in body heat which means you're forced to freeze to death or use a blanket that looks about as old and dirty as the mattresses and feels like its made of bear fur (and not a bear that uses Pantine).  I chose freezing to death.  So after this lovely experience, we arrived in Saint Petersburg and were taken to our hostel... Rainbow Hostel. A place where toilets shoot out rainbows (refer to the picture posed on Facebook). Apparently thats where all the college age kids stay because when we got there we were greeted by an assortment of characters all there for the weekend festivities.  That was when we met Arsenal (that's the closest any of us can get to remembering his name, however I usually just refer to him as anything that starts with an A). He was from Siberia on his way to a conference in Germany where they would be speaking in English for some law school internship even though he looked like he was 12 (but had hr creepiness of Russian men far beyond his years). His story didn't really hold up in retrospect but at the time when he offered to give us a tour of the city we all blindly accepted and followed him around like a pack of rainbow zombies. Just to put it into perspective, him giving us a tour of Saint Petersburg was about as legit as if I gave any of you a tour of New York after only having been there for one day. All the same we followed him for FOUR HOURS on a tour of the city that turned into less of a city tour and more of an up close look at how creepy Russian men are, how we weren't allowed to take pictures but when we didn't we were criticized for not having our cameras, how the only acceptable tours here are those done at a jog, and how it seemed as though he wanted to take all of us back to Siberia with him to have as sister wives... Even Michael. It got especially wonderful when he took us down the escalator to the metro that we were literally on for about five minutes because this metro is the deepest in the world and then we had to ride a convoluted maze of metros through the depths of the earth to get back to Rainbow.  Needless to say after that adventure we were ready to cook our condom-wrapped hot dogs and ramen and go to bed. 

I Do What With These Scissors?

Ok so clearly (not really clearly for you as I can't get myself to an Internet cafe to post any of these on time anyways) I'm not doing well at this whole keeping a blog thing. Anyways, here is what I remember of the last week (it is all true no matter how untrue it seems).  Upon arrival Thursday morning to Babies, we were going to garden again. This had previously seemed like a very calming way to start off the day. Then we were handed scissors. Household scissors. Maybe one step up from safety scissors. We were instructed to cut the grass with them. I kid you not. CUT. THE. GRASS. So our group of volunteers and two translators (one of which was wearing a skin-tight clubbing dress with a lace back because that's just how you dress to volunteer here) spent the next two hours giving the grass a hair cut. Totally normal. By hour two of my fun carpal tunnel volunteer work I was ready to sell my soul to do just about anything else. Lucky for me, Sveta took pitty on me and my roommate Lauren and allowed us to go with a group of two-year-olds to the amusement park.  Ok. Maybe you're thinking, "Wow! Russia has an amusement park?! That must be awesome, just like six flags!" No. It is not awesome like six flags. It is in a parking lot of an abandoned movie theater. It pretty much looks like a carnival that goes town to town and sets up in parking lots in the US but furnished exclusively by rides and attractions that didn't make the cut anywhere else (such as the "log flume" ride where you have to push the logs (read: offensive native american canoes) around the river yourself. There is no jet system. The water is so still algae can grow. But once you've begun to push your offensive canoe, your small Russian orphans go trough a TEEPEE. Yes. I am rarely offended by anything but that was pretty damn offensive. Then we went to drag queen Mickey mouse accompanied by a cartoon horse toting a tequila barrel. It was a carousel.  Other than the fact that Lauren and I thought we would be abducted ourselves in the haunted carnival of death, we blew some bubbles for the children, sent them down a completely age-inappropriate bouncy house slide, and all left unharmed.  The rest of the work week consisted of pretty much the same strange scissor grass ordeal followed by pushing around baby Anya and Maxim around for hours upon hours to make them go to sleep.

Want to learn about going abroad to fabulous places like Yaroslavl and have your own ridiculous experiences? Go to crossculturalsolutions.org!

BABIES, inspired by BABIES!

Today was day one at the orphanage. We literally got there and were handed 3 babies to watch in what looked like a circus cage. We played with them for a while and then took them inside to eat. Then we played with more babies inside. The whole experience was a little strange. I definitely understand the Russian orphanages a lot more now. Since there's so many of them, their caretakers can't pick them all up to comfort them each time they cry, so they seem to have decided that they will just never pick them up unless they're transporting them. I got yelled at for picking them up to play with them and bounce them around but they so clearly crave contact and are so thrilled to get it when they can to the point that a baby can be crying and all you have to do is touch its back and it will stop. They even cry in such a way that you can tell they are not expecting to be heard. I can't explain it well, but I thought at first the baby I was watching had a sore throat or had lost his voice until I realized all of them cried like that: at a full intensity but not at a volume that would necessarily get someone's attention who was doing other things. ADDENDUM: They do cry like this, yes. However, the orphanage upon further observation and after talking to Sveta, our translator, is just severely understaffed due to funding. The walls are all colorful and covered in murals and the staff that is there all act like they've just taken 12 shots of 5 hour energy with the level of enthusiasm they convey while working with the kids. I would feel that any child adopted from there was extremely well taken care of and given as much enrichment as possible (each group of 15 has heir own outside garden/ play area, music lessons complete with a crazy accordion lady, exercise, and indoor play areas as well).  The next day we started out by weeding and then pretty much just played around with the babies from the day before. We left early to go on a tour of a nearby village... I can't spell it's name... And made tiny clay rams with a famous Russian toy maker and saw her and her family's (including her mother who wore an all yellow outfit complete with bright yellow snow pants in 80 degree weather) collection of paintings and toys. Then we went to a church and a museum about how people used to live there and collect salt to ship out to the rest of Russia. Last, we came back, ate, and went out for drinks where we heard the lovely story of travel safety and the merits of stuffing rubles in your underwear in case you are robbed and need to get out of the country.

Get babies in your life STAT. crossculturalsolutions.org

Onion Domes Made of Dragon Scales

Well that title should pretty accurately sum up what I saw today. The tops of every church here are made of those domes that are fashioned like candles but actually just look like giant onions covered in dragon scales a la Game of Thrones. While my description may make them sound ridiculous, they're actually the most beautiful church exteriors I've ever seen. Today we had the standard first day orientation: a city tour, Yaroslavl history lessons, overbearing but good-intentioned Russian cooks pressuring me to eat my vegetables, and, of course, learning about our placement.  Mine is called simply, "Babies." Not so much as a group of small humans but more as a location (as in "tomorrow I will be going to babies"). This is really exciting for me because it will be an actual orphanage with babies ages newborn to three years unlike most placements that work with orphans but aren't actually orphanages. I'll be in charge of a group of three or four babies and... Well... Keep them alive. I really have gotten little information about what I'll actually be doing with them but walking them seems to be key. Perhaps I'll give them lots of tummy time because apparently the D- shaped head is a big problem with Russian orphans because they're always on their backs. I'll probably also monitor their development... Whether or not I'm supposed to. I've heard about a lot of the traumatic effects children have from even just being in an orphanage for a short time at a very young age so it will be interesting to see the conditions first-hand and get a better understanding of what is causing this and what could be done to prevent it.  After learning about all of this we decided to go into the city center since it was only like 6.30 and the sun wouldn't be going down for another like 5 hours. My roommate and I walked around for awhile and saw some of the sights... Like, you know, the soviet monuments... The fence covered in heart locks... The man rollerblading with ski poles and a stoic expression. We met up with everyone at an Internet cafe and walked back home. Yaroslavl is pretty easy to navigate (I WILL get lost tomorrow because I said that) and get around by foot or public transportation. I have high hopes for these six weeks.  Oh ps I'm going to St. Petersburg this weekend because when else am I going to get to do that?! Also every Anastasia song is going through my head right now. I'm contemplating downloading the soundtrack if I can ever get Internet.  Pps Yaroslavl has a series of giant fountains that do a light show to music every night. Suck it Chapman, Yaroslavl has you beat on the fountain front. Also the city is 1002 years old.  The end.

Go abroad. Now. I dare you. crossculturalsolutions.org

My Journey Through Hel(sinki)

So remember that one time I thought this journey would be less intense than my 36 hour one back from Africa? Yeah it wasn't. After waking up at the crack of dawn and getting to SFO with perfect timing, I thought everything would go smoothly. How silly of me. Upon arriving in Chicago, my three hour layover quickly turned into a seven hour one. This would only make sense because I had to catch a plane to Moscow after that left 40 minutes after I landed. Needless to say I did not make that flight. Because of that I am now sitting in the Helsinki airport for what seems like forever but is actually only 4 hours. This additional 4 hour layover has given me quite a lot of time to make some observations about the Helsinki airport and the people of Finland.  1. Finland is inhabited by ghosts. Ok maybe not real ghosts. But if you've ever been to this region of the world you will notice an overwhelming majority of the people here look like albinos.  2. The Helsinki airport was designed by the same people that did ikea... In conjunction with eskimos. Thank god I didn't forget my sweater... Oh wait... Thank god I turned around for it after I forgot it... Because its about -5 degrees in this airport. Not to mention its raining outside. Naturally I'm sitting here looking like someone on I shouldn't be alive, shivering and in desperate need of a good serving of meatballs.  3. There seem to be a lot of birds in this airport. I'm not talking about outside either. Every time I look up from The Big Bang Theory I see a little bird giving me a judgmental stare. They're probably here because the roof seems to be unfinished, which probably doesn't help the fact that it's freezing.  4. Employees here ride around the airport on what looks like the love child between a bike and a razor scooter. No more explanation can be provided.  And then I fell asleep, landed in Russia, navigated my way through the Moscow airport, got picked up by a cab driver with the SKETCHIEST sign in the world (now I feel Carrie's pain from Tanzania) because I was like 7 hours late, drove for FREAKING FIVE HOURS, and arrived in Yaroslavl at midnight... Minutes after the sun had set.

There is officially one day until I leave for Russia... and by one day I mean roughly 12 hours. I'm refusing to go into my room where my suitcase lives because I'm intimidated by it which totally makes sense... so you get a blog post! In case you're as confused about what I'm doing in Russia as most people seem to be let me clarify for you.

Unlike most CCS programs (which you can look at here: www.crossculturalsolutions.org), this one has all of the volunteers travel as a group and work in a new placement each day. This will allow me to work in facilities such as orphanages, psychiatric hospitals, schools, women's centers, geriatric facilities... everywhere really doing projects from helping to fix up the facilities to arts and crafts projects (the Russian government believes that art can be extremely therapeutic and encourages volunteers to incorporate that into their work). SO I'll be doing a little bit of everything. I know, difficult to describe when you talk about your crazy friend who went to Russia to volunteer. I really should have thought about that inconvenience before I signed up. Sorry guys.

Ok, now it's time to face the suitcase monster and stop watching Gypsy Weddings and writing in a blog. Expect an update when I get there to let you know I've arrived!

So as you may know, this Saturday I'll be going off to volunteer in Russia for 6 weeks because apparently I really enjoy putting myself in potentially terrifying situations and... you know... to make the world a better place. This is where you'll find any updates for those of you who want to know about my ridiculous adventures since a call to the US costs $3/minute at MINIMUM from my phone and, if the internet there is anything like it was in Africa, I'll have to do some kind of ceremonial dance to the internet gods or something equally intensive to get an internet connection lasting more than 10 minutes so I won't be able to email everyone individually (and a group email won't have festive nesting dolls in the background, so obviously it's not worth sending). Wish me luck!