This
was the last week the cads were with us and, whether or not we realized
it, we were going to live by a "go big or go home" mentality. Thank
goodness my trip was able to be extended by two weeks so I didn't have
to go home too, because our time at babies this week was WAY too short.
Monday we went back to Zvolshky city camp where we did musical drawing
with the kids. They really seemed to enjoy it and by "they" I mean
Victor and also a side of children. I've never seen more crazy pictures
drawn in musical drawing. After that we played mancala... You know, that
game with the holes and the beads you played by yourself when you were a
kid because you were an only child who had no friends? No? Just me?
Well you played it, give me that at least.
Despite the fact that the mancala set at the home base looks like it was one of the first mancala sets ever created and contains none of the original marbles, none of them seemed to have any idea how to play it. Therefore, I took it on as my personal (and after realizing what I had gotten myself into slightly undesirable) mission to teach all the girls (plus Victor, obviously) how to play. You would have thought I was trying to teach them quantum physics (again by "them" I'm not referring to the children, who picked it up after like 4 seconds from my miming before any actual words could be translated for them, I'm referring to Natasha, Victor, and their teachers). Natasha absolutely refuses to translate anything unless she completely understands it, which I can totally see her reasoning. Someone could be trying to ask, "can I steal that baby" or "are you a spy" in which case it would be weird to translate that at all but I wasn't. I was teaching them DAMN MANCALA. So first, I would demonstrate, at which point every child in the room would essentially understand what I was trying to get at. Then, I would have to explain the thought process and rules and ethics behind why you could or couldn't make a move. Then Victor would be confused about what I explained that was translated (probably in accurately) by Natasha. Then I would have to continue demonstrating for him. Then when the kids would finally weasel through the adults to play the game one of their teachers would get confused and stop them. Not to mention the marbles we were playing with didn't fit in the holes or the children's hands.
Tuesday was Vic's birthday and I had made it my mission to make it as embarrassing and wonderful as any 21st birthday should be. Our cultural learning activity that day was by far one of the best we've ever had: singing lessons. I've never seen our group so enthusiastic about singing with FEEEEELING. It was a truly hilarious experience. Especially since the last song we learned was the birthday cake dance that is literally the most awkward birthday song I've heard in all of my life and probably one of the most humiliating songs Vic has ever had sung to her on her birthday. But the best part of this whole lesson was that Lena was making dinner in the same room and would randomly bust out some crazy dance moves as we sang traditional Russian songs.
That night we started out at Dudki Bar for Vic's birthday celebration. We merged all over town and finally caught the bus home. Yes, that is all from that night that will grace the Internet. No one deserves their 21st birthday posted in a blog. You're welcome.
Thursday was an attempted double babies day. Sadly for us, the second half was rudely cancelled (let me clarify, it wasn't rude to cancel, it was rude to deliver the news in such an uncaring way). Sadly for all of Russia, they had to deal with the wrath of removing us from our babies, a situation none of us saw coming. Galina had to come drag us weeping out of our beds for lunch and then forced us to eat a GINORMOUS lunch despite that we had just eaten our picnic in the car.
Since Thursday was the cads last night, we went out to a hilarious restaurant based on the Ivan Vasilievich movie with all of the translators. While at this restaurant, we dressed up in costumes from the movie... and by “we dressed up” I mean Natasha used her mom voice on us until each one of us conceded and put on at least one item of costumes to have a photo shoot in. I still have no idea why she was so enthusiastic to have us put on these costumes. Perhaps she wanted us to do something as embarrassing as when she tried to teach us to bellydance at Babies? Either way, Basil and Melissa dressed up as Czar and Czarina which was all it took to convince 70-year-old Basil that Melissa was in love with him. This was all promptly followed by Sveta and Asya tricking us into eating tongue. Although I knew what it was upon arrival at our table because apparently I eat a lot of obscure foods.
Oh and the bathroom was in an elevator. But don’t try to hold the door open because it will SCREAM AT YOU and then the lights will go off and the door will break and chop off your hand. Then a group of angry waitresses will come and chop off your other hand. And then you’ll die. Maybe not the last one though.
After that glorious experience, we clearly didn’t want the night to end so we took to the streets on a quest to find a bar that 4,000 Americans could cram into. And because we were feeling extra generous, we let Asya and Sveta find us a place. So nice of us. After the normal meandering for a half hour around one square block, we ended our translators’ misery and went to Your Bar (it’s in a basement with cool furniture, wood walls, and old, eclectic lamp shades on every lamp... basically a hipster’s dream bar).
I will leave you with the images of: Natasha dancing like a gypsy in the sea, tequila shooters, inappropriate lovin’, “losing my religion,” and being exiled.
And that is where the stories from this night will end. You’re welcome to all parties involved.
The only monumental event of Friday was Melissa buying literally a gold brick of chocolate ice cream at Carousel and then attempting to eat it all before it melts. It was like a 1 person eating contest where everyone loses.
Then the cadets left and we wept all weekend. And by wept I mean slept.
Despite the fact that the mancala set at the home base looks like it was one of the first mancala sets ever created and contains none of the original marbles, none of them seemed to have any idea how to play it. Therefore, I took it on as my personal (and after realizing what I had gotten myself into slightly undesirable) mission to teach all the girls (plus Victor, obviously) how to play. You would have thought I was trying to teach them quantum physics (again by "them" I'm not referring to the children, who picked it up after like 4 seconds from my miming before any actual words could be translated for them, I'm referring to Natasha, Victor, and their teachers). Natasha absolutely refuses to translate anything unless she completely understands it, which I can totally see her reasoning. Someone could be trying to ask, "can I steal that baby" or "are you a spy" in which case it would be weird to translate that at all but I wasn't. I was teaching them DAMN MANCALA. So first, I would demonstrate, at which point every child in the room would essentially understand what I was trying to get at. Then, I would have to explain the thought process and rules and ethics behind why you could or couldn't make a move. Then Victor would be confused about what I explained that was translated (probably in accurately) by Natasha. Then I would have to continue demonstrating for him. Then when the kids would finally weasel through the adults to play the game one of their teachers would get confused and stop them. Not to mention the marbles we were playing with didn't fit in the holes or the children's hands.
Tuesday was Vic's birthday and I had made it my mission to make it as embarrassing and wonderful as any 21st birthday should be. Our cultural learning activity that day was by far one of the best we've ever had: singing lessons. I've never seen our group so enthusiastic about singing with FEEEEELING. It was a truly hilarious experience. Especially since the last song we learned was the birthday cake dance that is literally the most awkward birthday song I've heard in all of my life and probably one of the most humiliating songs Vic has ever had sung to her on her birthday. But the best part of this whole lesson was that Lena was making dinner in the same room and would randomly bust out some crazy dance moves as we sang traditional Russian songs.
That night we started out at Dudki Bar for Vic's birthday celebration. We merged all over town and finally caught the bus home. Yes, that is all from that night that will grace the Internet. No one deserves their 21st birthday posted in a blog. You're welcome.
Thursday was an attempted double babies day. Sadly for us, the second half was rudely cancelled (let me clarify, it wasn't rude to cancel, it was rude to deliver the news in such an uncaring way). Sadly for all of Russia, they had to deal with the wrath of removing us from our babies, a situation none of us saw coming. Galina had to come drag us weeping out of our beds for lunch and then forced us to eat a GINORMOUS lunch despite that we had just eaten our picnic in the car.
Since Thursday was the cads last night, we went out to a hilarious restaurant based on the Ivan Vasilievich movie with all of the translators. While at this restaurant, we dressed up in costumes from the movie... and by “we dressed up” I mean Natasha used her mom voice on us until each one of us conceded and put on at least one item of costumes to have a photo shoot in. I still have no idea why she was so enthusiastic to have us put on these costumes. Perhaps she wanted us to do something as embarrassing as when she tried to teach us to bellydance at Babies? Either way, Basil and Melissa dressed up as Czar and Czarina which was all it took to convince 70-year-old Basil that Melissa was in love with him. This was all promptly followed by Sveta and Asya tricking us into eating tongue. Although I knew what it was upon arrival at our table because apparently I eat a lot of obscure foods.
Oh and the bathroom was in an elevator. But don’t try to hold the door open because it will SCREAM AT YOU and then the lights will go off and the door will break and chop off your hand. Then a group of angry waitresses will come and chop off your other hand. And then you’ll die. Maybe not the last one though.
After that glorious experience, we clearly didn’t want the night to end so we took to the streets on a quest to find a bar that 4,000 Americans could cram into. And because we were feeling extra generous, we let Asya and Sveta find us a place. So nice of us. After the normal meandering for a half hour around one square block, we ended our translators’ misery and went to Your Bar (it’s in a basement with cool furniture, wood walls, and old, eclectic lamp shades on every lamp... basically a hipster’s dream bar).
I will leave you with the images of: Natasha dancing like a gypsy in the sea, tequila shooters, inappropriate lovin’, “losing my religion,” and being exiled.
And that is where the stories from this night will end. You’re welcome to all parties involved.
The only monumental event of Friday was Melissa buying literally a gold brick of chocolate ice cream at Carousel and then attempting to eat it all before it melts. It was like a 1 person eating contest where everyone loses.
Then the cadets left and we wept all weekend. And by wept I mean slept.
No comments:
Post a Comment