Pretend This Is The Future...

Ok first of all, sorry for the big gap in posts. This will cover a week's worth of time that happened two weeks ago. Good luck with that riddle. Also you should note that I've been lucky enough to extend my stay an additional two weeks because I'm physically unable to rip myself away from baby Sveta. Healthy. Anyways...

This week the new volunteers (made up mostly of cadets) arrived. Things we've learned from this experience:
1. None of us are that great with change, or at least not me or Mackenzie. This was made very clear by the tiny panic attacks we had upon their arrival and the fact that we couldn't move for about 4 hours after seeing the swarm of new faces. Clearly Russia has done something bad for my social skills that, believe it or not, were once bordering on normal.

2. We are all morbidly obese. Half of the new group is made up of cadets with the most intense muscles I've ever seen. Come to think of it the thought that half of my new roomies could now break me in half like a toothpick may have contributed more to my earlier panic than my horrible social anxiety. Even the girls are ripped. And what did these people want to do after traveling for an entire day? WORK OUT. True story. They got here and WENT OUT FOR A RUN. Our fat selves hadn't moved out of the home base all day long! Naturally to make up for our sandess at our bodies we ate more while they exercised (a habit that I can now say has not changed at all 3 weeks after their arrival. So much for good influences).

3. Ok there were really only those two things but I haven't numbered anything since Helsinki and I missed it.

MOnday we woke up ready to get back to our babies until we were met with the utterly devistating news that we weren't going to be able to go. Poor Natasha looked like she needed to go run and barricade herself somewhere when we heard the news. We were about ready to get on a bus or hitchhike there just to see them.

Instead, we went to one of the city camps and worked with a small group of kids there who were around 10... and one giant kid who was about 40... named Victor... who is our bus driver. Victor is probably the most hilarious person I've met in Russia so far. He's literally a child trapped in the body of an adult bear man who LOVES TO CRAFT (yell this like a WWF announcer would and you'll be able to get the intensity of this statement). A little girl was doing an extremely intricate craft project and he BEASTED her project. He was working on it with her like she was painting the next Mona Lisa. It was absolutely amazing.

The rest of MOnday is a confusing mess of panic and anxiety because I cannot deal with upheaval.

TUESDAY!

...

It was there too... I waited way too long to write this blog...

YES. Ok Tuesday we went back to babies and my heart sang with joy (but really I've never been happier to go anywhere than back to babies). The cadet girls came with us and we initiated them with a nice round of toxic wood stain that even mosquitos won't fly near.

I also attempted skipping lunch to be able to go to afternoon placement. Bad idea. The Russians threw a hissy fit. Skipping meals is NOT ALLOWED. I think I may need all new pants when I get home because of this.

In the afternoon I did my first afternoon placement at Leninsky Disabled. That is a group of HILARIOUS individuals. I've never seen so many people have such sass. We went around and told them all about our lives and they grilled us about everything we did. They could be world-class interrogators. Then we did musical drawing with them where you pass papers around in a circle and when the music plays you add to whatever drawing you have at the time and once your original drawing gets back to you, you admire the artwork the entire team has helped to make. They went wild with it and drew some awesome things. It got the whole room laughing. Next we played indoor games with them which turned into the most vicious game of Uno I've ever played. I never knew how horrible I was at Uno strategy and Russian smack talking (well maybe the Russian part I knew).

Wednesday we went to the military museum which was really interesting but also kind of strange to be there with a bunch of American cadets and Uncle Vanya, their kind... or commander... Ruler? Chief? Lord?

The rest of the week is filled with even more confusion, expecially since it has now been 3 weeks since it happened. I know we returned to babies one afternoon and got a double babies day which was literally the best day of my life. The guys all had to do manual labor and dig tires into the ground. Sveta, Masha, and I played Super Sveta and watched them. I would say those were pretty equal jobs, right? I also know we went to the mall with Asya and Big Sveta and I bought pants and they tried to convince us that Sveta does in fact really enjoy hanging out with a boiserous group of American volunteers and that we're not just forcing her to occupy her every weekend entertaining us. We also watched a movie called Moose: A Domestic Spider Cow that showed way too much about moose birth and moose suckling. That is the image I will leave you with. You're welcome.

How Can My Pants Shrink If We Have No Dryer?!

Ok so this is just going to be my blog entry for the whole week because honestly this past week was the most quiet week I've ever experienced. Monday and Tuesday were both really quiet days filled with babies and joy. We've also graduated from cutting grass with scissors to painting heater shields with wood stain with poison fumes. Big time. Tuesday we had a cooking lesson because... You know... We're not fat enough already, we need to know how to cook ourselves.  Wednesday was the fourth of July which meant we went out to the bar on the pedestrian street and listened to the extremely inappropriate live music while having drinks on one of the psychotic ex volunteers who professed his love for one of us, pretended to leave his phone at the home base, and sent her 5,000 rubles to send it back to him (because sending that to the program director who actually knows how to use the postal service here would have made way too much sense). It was filled with the best people watching of my life and a very informative lesson on how to correctly use chop sticks.  On top of this, we had just come from our excursion to the museum (someone's house) of time and music (bells and creepy bird music boxes) and the teddy bear museum. Now don't let me confuse you. This was not like the teddy bear factory in San Francisco which is a legitimate factory and museum filled with informative posters and adorable teddy bears. This was two very small rooms filled with what I would call vendetta bears who looked like they had all been told one too many secrets by their crazy child owners. I would not want to be alone there at night.  Thursday we were able to interview the orphanage director. Apparently people in Russia don't like to be interviewed since we're all spies. She was very confused as to what we were trying to accomplish through the interview and the first question she asked us was if we wanted to adopt. She asked us in a very suspicious way though. Maybe she sensed that every time we got back to the home base after placement we began plotting how we could sneak our respective babies out and take them home with us. Apparently the facility is government run and currently has 97 children there. People adopt through agencies that refer them there and we were able to talk to a family adopting twins for a bit. Despite the fact that many children are adopted by foreigners, Russians have priority and family members have ultimate priority. Often family members will come visit and eventually adopt. In one case, a baby's parents were 13 and 14 when they had her and now the father is coming back to adopt his daughter. Similar things happen all the time. The staff is often worried about the families the babies go back to won't take good enough care of them or will spoil them rotten. It was really touching to hear how much the staff cares about each child. And the fact that I'm not taking baby Sveta home with me is breaking my heart. I really wish there was a way I could follow up on her to at least make sure she's ok and well taken care of.  Friday was Elena's last day so we decided to go to a "jazz session" (they made it very clear we weren't to call it a concert). It made me want to rip off my ears. The first singer was ok but the ones that followed all sounded like they had bronchitis and had never heard the songs before. Despite the horrific melodies, the words were all in English and were surprisingly comprehensible. Unfortunately the concert went on for about two and a half hours and we had signed out for dinner so we could just eat when we got back, which made the group of Americans devouring the cliff bar like wolves on a moose the main attraction of the concert.  The rest of the weekend was spent exploring and mentally preparing ourselves for the new group coming. 

The Day Time Stood Still

Sunday was the first day since we've been here that we've literally had nothing to do. My roommate left early in the morning so we all got up to see her off and (in Becky's case) try and hitch a ride to Moscow.  Later in the morning, Becky and I decided we needed to go to the city center so that I could unsuccessfully get a sim card for my iPad and she could unsuccessfully get yarn. Dejected from our inability to get either, we went to Travelers (the Internet cafe I post these blogs from) to get cinnamon rolls. We had no idea what we were in for.  Just as we were about to leave two belligerent Russian men who were clearly still drunk from the night before wandered in and tried to talk to us. Even though we responded with the standard "I don't speak Russian" (which isn't really convincing in retrospect when you said it in Russian), they seemed to think that was an open invitation to come talk to us. In Russian. And then make a show for the baristas. In short, we were trying to use google translate to communicate but I have a feeling a lot was lost in translation. Or maybe it wasn't because as soon as we told them that we worked at an orphanage drunk fool #1 decided he had to leave to take care of his child. Drunk fool #2 then proceeded to pretend he was a hockey player and continue trying to get us to go to a movie with him which shortly turned into "come to my house and watch Ghost Ship." On top of this he was on the phone with a friend he claimed was his mother and could speak English but apparently his mother is a man and the only things he knew were extremely offensive phrases. 45 minutes of sheer panic later I made my friend leave the "hilarious" situation because no matter how hilarious a situation is, it always goes downhill once you get abducted.  Then we sat around the home base and rocked back and forth in the sun room reliving our trauma for the rest of the day. 

How Lace and Butter Can Time Travel

So this weekend, after many of us stayed up all night listening to manic life stories, we decided the best possible idea was to take a two and a half hour car trip to the city of Vologda. Thankfully, we guilted Sveta, our translator from heaven into coming with us. A decision she would later deeply regret.

Upon arrival, we learned that it was the town's 865th birthday. Towns here are OLD, guys. Yaroslavl is 1,002. How did we know this? Because we stopped RIGHT IN FRONT OF A PARADE. Like first car at the stop light of the intersecting parade route. Hands down the best part of it was the float filled with Russian brides.

Even though initially we went there to see the lace factory and museum of forgotten things, we stumbled upon a group of people in what looked like just one big party. It was, but the party was a combo of a renaissance fair and a town celebration and a whole lot of weird. Then we found out Becky was obsessed with the renaissance as she LOST HER MIND and went sprinting down the field and straight into some kind of jousting ring.

As we continued to wander the city and wrangle Becky in, the renaissance fair only got bigger but by that point we were on a ravenous quest to find food. Thank god for Russian pastries and the ability to act things out like it's a sport. I've never seen a stranger smattering of people and entertainment in all of my life. A giant ampitheater was set up in the town square where acts from a spinning teacup dance of small children to strange traditional singing took place. This entertainment even included street performers such as the Russian renaissance dance troupe (which looks a lot like German dance) which featured singing and dancing young children (including two boys who would have been perfect matches for Teagan and Lydia in their little German and Russian outfits). I don't think my words can possibly do justice to what was happening or how horrified the look on Sveta's face was that she had spent her Saturday off leading her group of obnoxious Americans through what had turned into the strangest city on earth.

We visted the museum of lace which was probably the most beautiful thin I've seen in Russia thus far. Each piece was handmade and some of them spanned entire walls.

After a walk filled with boats of dancing old people, questionable meat pies, graceful swan impersonations, and something called "kettle ball dancing" outside a log fortress, we were on our way to the museum of forgotten things. It turned out to be inside what looked like someone's old house and should really have been called the museum of hilarious old portraits and a haunted piano.

Thankfully, we all had the car ride back to decompress and try and figure out what had happened to us... or in Lauren's case try to figure out the town's "butter and lace conspiracy." How could the town use both of these things and why would they pick them to be famous for?! The world may never know.

Big Sveta and Baby Sveta in Matching Svetas

Thursday we were reunited with our babies and it was probably the happiest moment of my trip. I can't put into words how much I love these kids and how excited I am to go to my placement every day. I especially love my three little babies: Sveta, Masha, and Rita. They have such silly little personalities and have started smiling every time they see us walking into a room. The funniest part about these babies is that despite the fact that it's a good 80 degrees outside most days, it seems like their caregivers didn't get the memo and dress them in a million layers of flannel and fleece and like 50 hats. This week, it seems, someone donated a bunch of silly little bear onesies complete with little hoods and tiny bear ears on them so not only did they look like their normal rollie-pollie selves, but now it looked like we were being attacked by a heard of tiny, slow-moving bears. This was also when we convinced ourselves that our virtual matryoshka doll of Svetas should have a day where they all wear matching sweaters because after hours of cutting grass with scissors and talking to babies you'll find just about anything hilarious.

Upon arrival back at the home base, we had another one of our wonderful yet anxiety-producing Russian lessons with Natasha. SIDE NOTE: This week we've found out that the Russian lessons are not actually supposed to be as ridiculously hard and confusing as they are. We are just the lucky ones who get taught by a new teacher who wants to use her own lesson plans.

I realize that this is the first time I've written about them despite the fact that we've had them every other day for the past two weeks, but I'm pretty sure that's because when they end, we all go upstairs and slip into mini-comas and then wake up and pretend they never happened. Which is probably also what Natasha does too because teaching us is kind of like trying to teach a pack of gerbils to do backflips and being met only by blank stares and noises that sound like what you make to a mechanic when you're trying to describe what your dying car sounds like. Then after every lesson, we have to explain to her that we're really not a bunch of buffoons. I don't think she buys it. I wouldn't either.

Another Round of Moose Milk!

Wednesday we went on our weekly excursion and because all the crazy Americans (us) lost our minds at the mention of a moose farm one day, they appeased us and put us on a coach bus to drive through the back country moose roads. I don't think I've ever felt more ridiculous. Wait. Yes I have. Every other day I've been here...

Two hours of driving later (because we are that dedicated to seeing moose) we stumbled upon what I can only describe as something similar to the enterance of Ngorongoro Park but covered in moose. It was large. It was noble. It was completely ridiculous.

We were greeted by the most intense moose farmer (compared to all the other moose farmers I've encountered... just go with it, guys) who delved into a lengthy schpeal on the process of moose birth. Actually, he could have been talking about anything and I wouldn't know the difference because he would talk for about 10 minutes and our translator would laugh and respond and just be generally involved in what he was saying and then give us about a 30 second translation of what was said. All I really got out of it are that while we were there, the moose were set free to meander the woods and would come back to give birth with a woman who didn't shower for 10 days so the moose wouldn't be offended by her smell and kill her when she stole the baby to raise it in a moose orphanage. ALL. TRUE.

Next thing we know we were being handed carrots and being told to feed the adolescent moose because "they have no teeth and are hungry." I don't know about you, but I have always been under the impression that to chew a carrot, one needs teeth. I'm pretty sure the moose farmers were just telling us that so we would blindly feed their moose and not worry about the very real possibility of losing a finger in a vicious moose feeding fiasco. All the same, we walked away unscathed and ready to take our coach bus on an even smaller and less appropriate dirt road to an orphanage in the woods for baby moose.

Once we arrived, we had another rough translation of a 15 minute moose monologue detailing the process of raising baby moose and something about how the caregivers have to time their exits perfectly and run downwind on stilts away from the babies when they're not looking so they don't get followed home by a heard of baby moose. How this crap hasn't taken the internet by storm is beyond me.We also learned the dangers of moose alcoholism in soviet times and the healing properties of a good shot of moose milk, which natrually meant we had to go try some.

IMPORTANT WARNING: When given the opportunity to try moose milk JUST. SAY. NO. It doesn't matter when they tell you "it doesn't have an odor" or that everyone in your group falls into some strange gotta drink the kool-aid gang mentality. The moose milk's flavor makes up for its lack of smell and the aftertaste cant' be erased even if you tried to burn it off your tongue. Take the hint when they tell you it's medicinal because of all the moose magic inside of it. No one has ever thought, "wow, there's a new flavor of cough syrup out, we should probably take a shot to see how it tastes" for a good reason. Unless you have. In which case you should probably drink some moose milk to cure yourself from all of those cough syrup shots.

Despite all of that, after taking a shot of what may be the worst beverage known to mankind other than kvas (described to us initially as "bread juice"), I didn't have allergies for the next four days. Time to learn how to import the milk.

After the moose extravaganza, we ventured around Kostroma and saw where the Romanovs were from and the kremlin they stayed in.

Four days later and I still can't get Anastasia songs out of my head. I have a feeling that will be a theme for this trip...

Look at you. You need a glass of moose milk in your life. Get some. crossculturalsolutions.org

Yaroslavl Patagonia School of Magic

So the day we got home from Saint Petersburg, the translators decided the best possible placement for us was the botanical gardens at the local university... which in retrospect was probably a thousand times better than having a bunch of children screaming to you in Russian but at the time seemed just like ridiculous physical labor for the immigrant farm workers (us).

I know we were helping out a lot but they definitely gave us the job that no one wanted: watering ALL THE BOTANICAL GARDENS!!! With watering cans... and one poorly placed hose. I think i walked about 10 miles in the two hours we were there just coming and going from the hose.

Thankfully our wonderful translator Natalya realized that we were essentially the walking dead with watering cans and let us stop early to tour around the university which we understood to be the Patagonia School of Magic and Mooses. Sadly they had no sweatshirts for us to purchase otherwise that would DEFINITELY be what you all would get for presents.

There really is nothing more to tell you. I apologize for this joke of a blog entry but apparently I'm as tired now as when I was watering.