Sergei asked if I would like to experience real Russian food. I said YES! That is why I am here. A few hours later he tells me that we will go to Stas and Marina’s house the following night for dinner and we will have окрошка (a-krosh-ka). This meal consists of diced meats (it can be sausages, or meats), cucumbers, radishes, dill and the white part of a boiled egg. Once it is all put together, you spoon out some in a bowl, pour Kvass on top, dollop some sour cream and then add some salt. They all sat and watched me as I took the first bite (or at least that’s how I felt) and, of course, asked me right away if I liked it. And … I really, really like it! It was so good that I had more.
For those of you who might not know what Kvass is, here is my best explanation of it. Kvass is a very popular Russian drink. Not knowing quite how to explain what it tastes like I went to Wikipedia. Sometimes called in English a bread drink, it is a fermented beverage made from black rye or rye bread (which contributes to its light or dark colour).
Sveta is teaching me how to make it because I shared with her and Dima that I would like to make окрошко when I return home, but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to find the Kvass, so she told me she would teach me how to make it.
My evening at Stas and Marina’s house was so humbling. I knew that though they were so happy to make this meal for me that it might have put a little bit of a stretch on their budget. So, why am I humbled? I am humbled because every time I see Stas and Marina they have smiles from ear to ear. I am humbled because they open their arms and home and make me feel so welcome. They asked if I would bring some vitamins over from the US. They knew the brand (Kirkland) and they asked if I would bring vitamins for adults and their 2 children (one being an infant). I am humbled after watching Marina glow and coo over the vitamins in front of her I realized that I take vitamins for granted.
On Friday, Dima announced that the elevator was back in service. I said, “Oh, that’s great. I think I will continue to take the stairs.”
“Oh? But it is so hot,” he said with such a look of surprise and the “oh” was coupled with a look of disbelief.
“Yes, but I think I need the exercise,” I replied, yet what I was thinking is ‘what happens if I get stuck in that elevator by myself?’ after Sergei mentioned that it takes awhile before someone might come to fix an elevator in a building.
Later that night when I was dropped off, I headed in the front door and stopped and stared at the elevator realizing that it would not only take my breath away to walk the 8 flights, but I would be sweating something terrible by the time I reached the front door of Sveta and Dima’s apartment. There is one thing I have learned in the last four days -- yes, it is possible to literally be dripping sweat just be standing still in 96 degree temperature and humidity that feels like a sauna. After one second, I decided to go with the stairs. I paced myself and made it to the 4th floor and then I stopped. I stared at the elevator as if it were some demon ready to jump out and get me. I pressed the button nervously and heard the elevator come quickly to my rescue. The door opened and still I was thinking that I shouldn’t take the elevator but my legs continued to move forward into the cubicle called an elevator. I pushed the button for the 8th floor and rode the rest of the 4 floors up, relieved when the doors opened and I wasn’t sweating.
Here is a list of things I did saw or experienced in the last 4 days:
• attended a Russian high school graduation – complete with a young boy gyrating like Elaine on Seinfeld.
• the lake (beach) – complete with the bugs the size of grasshoppers (no exaggeration)
• Russian language lessons – and being able to greet people in public
• riding several different buses and learning my way around town via bus
• more Russian hospitality – complete with stuffed chicken and Russian pickles
• Globus supermarket
• the country market – complete with an old Russian babushka pushing me out of the way
• visiting a summer camp for orphans and playing futbol with the young boys
• an underground club – complete with watching an old Russian flick
• Pasha’s apartment :)
• the family who used an American blow-up bed as a raft in the lake
• feeling like a mute at the orphan summer camp – it was the only way I could disguise being American since “foreigners” are not allowed in the camps
• a typical Russian lunch
• peace every time I round the corner from the elevator towards the door that marks my home for this 3 weeks
• seeing someone I have not seen in 3 years and excited because I wondered what happened to this person
• learning how to make Kvass
Monday, June 28, 2010
THE LONELY EGG
I was greeted the first morning with a big smile as I made my way into the kitchen and then Sveta ran to the stove and picked up the pan with the one fried egg in it. She quickly slid it onto a plate and set it before me. The table was already set with the ыабуки (apple), сыр (cheese) and the tasty Belarus treat called сирники (seer neekee).
I looked at the lonely egg on my plate. It did look lonely. It needed a companion. And then I realized I was viewing this very well-cooked egg as an American would. After all you would never go to Denny’s or iHop and expect to just get one egg. That would be ludicrous! As I cut into the egg, I noticed it was swimming in grease. It tasted so good. Grease has a way of doing that. I am a believer that this is why true Mexican and Southern foods taste so good – it is the amount of oil (in the form of either lard or butter) that is used. I was also reminded that there is cereal (the happy box of Nesquick – yes, you know that box as a child, right?) There is milk in the refrigerator. Quickly, Dima pulls out a bottle and points out that there is a picture of a “bully cow” and this is how I will know which bottle is the milk. Yes, when you don’t know a language you resort to images and I’m guessing he knew this because he taught himself English.
Back to my lonely egg – as I finished eating the white of the fried egg, there was only the yolk left. As I cut into the very well-cooked yolk, it spurted out some sort of liquid that clearly marked each pant leg with a dot of liquid. Whoa! The egg is alive.
I looked at the lonely egg on my plate. It did look lonely. It needed a companion. And then I realized I was viewing this very well-cooked egg as an American would. After all you would never go to Denny’s or iHop and expect to just get one egg. That would be ludicrous! As I cut into the egg, I noticed it was swimming in grease. It tasted so good. Grease has a way of doing that. I am a believer that this is why true Mexican and Southern foods taste so good – it is the amount of oil (in the form of either lard or butter) that is used. I was also reminded that there is cereal (the happy box of Nesquick – yes, you know that box as a child, right?) There is milk in the refrigerator. Quickly, Dima pulls out a bottle and points out that there is a picture of a “bully cow” and this is how I will know which bottle is the milk. Yes, when you don’t know a language you resort to images and I’m guessing he knew this because he taught himself English.
Back to my lonely egg – as I finished eating the white of the fried egg, there was only the yolk left. As I cut into the very well-cooked yolk, it spurted out some sort of liquid that clearly marked each pant leg with a dot of liquid. Whoa! The egg is alive.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The warmth of old friends and the possibility of new
Landing at a new airport was refreshing. It was amazing to me how quickly I made it through Passport Control and even more shocked that I whisked through customs. When I say "whisked" I mean I literally walked right through. Nobody stopped me, nobody frisked me, nobody wanted to see the contents of my bags. This caused me to seriously think about which airport I really want to fly into when I return in October. Those of you who know the airport that I generally fly into understand the difference between standing in Passport Control lines for 3 hours versus half an hour and having each bag dissected and pulled apart.
On top of that, I walked out to the sight of smiling faces and waving arms from my friends, Sergey and Katya. I am humbled by our friendship. We walked out of the airport and hopped into a car for the several hour drive to Ryazan. This is partially why I am humbled. When I come to Russia, the ever so long flight is only part of the transportation. The car or bus or van ride from the airport is also lengthy and I know what it means for them to take time out of their day to make that drive and pick me up.
And on to the rest of this amazing Russian hospitality. Having been raised by a Korean mother I know hospitality, especially when it comes to food. When being invited to my mother's house for dinner if you have finished your first plate of food you will DEFINITELY be offered a second helping. When I say "offered" I mean the food is in their hands ready to drop on your plate before you can say no. And if you are not smart enough to realize that you must eat very slowly from this point you will also be "given" a third helping.
Russians are much the same. Yesterday, Katya's mother came home and immediately began cooking a Tok-like (for you Koreans) Belarus treat. She then pulled out half the contents of her refrigerator and set it on the very small dining table in the kitchen. I was offered tea or coffee and opted for the tea (Russians don't drink coffee so coffee is instant coffee from a jar, which, by the way, I was raised on, but have been spoiled over my years of living in the US). Half way through my cup of tea, Sveta (Katya's mom) takes a coke and sets it in front of me. Now ... having experienced the Korean version of hospitality I'm now fully aware of what's happening, so I s-l-o-w-e-d down. Otherwise I would have had 2 plates of the tasty Belarus treat, cheese, cookies, tea, coke and possibly some Russian salami.
I dared not to tell her that I had just eaten at McDonald's with her daughter and son-in-law. No, eat the food and know that this comes from her heart.
For a moment I was a little concerned about the amount of food I would be consuming in this 3-week period, but it quickly dissipated when we reached the building where I am staying. Why? Because their flat is on the 8th floor ... and the lift is out of service! WOOT! Can we say "exercise"? Let me just say that I was happy that Sergey and Katya carried my suitcases up the stairs when I first got here.
From this food extravaganza I went to dinner. Sergey and Katya cooked a wonderful dinner and as we were talking and eating, Sergey asked me if I wanted to experience real Russian food. Part of why I am here is to experience the culture, learn the language and adapt as best as I can in the concept of my warped foreign ways. I said "YES!". And they immediately launched into speaking Russian with a menacing smile. I am not worried. When I pointed this out they told me that they wanted to make a traditional Russian salad. So, details to come!
Today I will be getting my first language lesson and after the language lesson Katya will show me how to catch the bus as I take copious notes because walking from one place to another entails going from one dirt path to another and often times your only guide is the clearing in the bushes (I'm being only slightly facetious) where there is a fork and you choose which dirt path to go down next. They explained last night that it is a 30 minute bus ride into the city central -- just in case I wanted to go to the city. Yes, I'm still nervous about getting around on ground transportation so please pray that this becomes so easy for me. Now, those of you who know me VERY well, know that I am SO geographically challenged that this is why I am so nervous. This morning when I woke up I thought -- pictures! -- I will take pictures along my way so that I can match up where I'm going. Yes, have a good laugh on that one. It might work, however.
And there comes the end of a beautiful first day in Russia.
On top of that, I walked out to the sight of smiling faces and waving arms from my friends, Sergey and Katya. I am humbled by our friendship. We walked out of the airport and hopped into a car for the several hour drive to Ryazan. This is partially why I am humbled. When I come to Russia, the ever so long flight is only part of the transportation. The car or bus or van ride from the airport is also lengthy and I know what it means for them to take time out of their day to make that drive and pick me up.
And on to the rest of this amazing Russian hospitality. Having been raised by a Korean mother I know hospitality, especially when it comes to food. When being invited to my mother's house for dinner if you have finished your first plate of food you will DEFINITELY be offered a second helping. When I say "offered" I mean the food is in their hands ready to drop on your plate before you can say no. And if you are not smart enough to realize that you must eat very slowly from this point you will also be "given" a third helping.
Russians are much the same. Yesterday, Katya's mother came home and immediately began cooking a Tok-like (for you Koreans) Belarus treat. She then pulled out half the contents of her refrigerator and set it on the very small dining table in the kitchen. I was offered tea or coffee and opted for the tea (Russians don't drink coffee so coffee is instant coffee from a jar, which, by the way, I was raised on, but have been spoiled over my years of living in the US). Half way through my cup of tea, Sveta (Katya's mom) takes a coke and sets it in front of me. Now ... having experienced the Korean version of hospitality I'm now fully aware of what's happening, so I s-l-o-w-e-d down. Otherwise I would have had 2 plates of the tasty Belarus treat, cheese, cookies, tea, coke and possibly some Russian salami.
I dared not to tell her that I had just eaten at McDonald's with her daughter and son-in-law. No, eat the food and know that this comes from her heart.
For a moment I was a little concerned about the amount of food I would be consuming in this 3-week period, but it quickly dissipated when we reached the building where I am staying. Why? Because their flat is on the 8th floor ... and the lift is out of service! WOOT! Can we say "exercise"? Let me just say that I was happy that Sergey and Katya carried my suitcases up the stairs when I first got here.
From this food extravaganza I went to dinner. Sergey and Katya cooked a wonderful dinner and as we were talking and eating, Sergey asked me if I wanted to experience real Russian food. Part of why I am here is to experience the culture, learn the language and adapt as best as I can in the concept of my warped foreign ways. I said "YES!". And they immediately launched into speaking Russian with a menacing smile. I am not worried. When I pointed this out they told me that they wanted to make a traditional Russian salad. So, details to come!
Today I will be getting my first language lesson and after the language lesson Katya will show me how to catch the bus as I take copious notes because walking from one place to another entails going from one dirt path to another and often times your only guide is the clearing in the bushes (I'm being only slightly facetious) where there is a fork and you choose which dirt path to go down next. They explained last night that it is a 30 minute bus ride into the city central -- just in case I wanted to go to the city. Yes, I'm still nervous about getting around on ground transportation so please pray that this becomes so easy for me. Now, those of you who know me VERY well, know that I am SO geographically challenged that this is why I am so nervous. This morning when I woke up I thought -- pictures! -- I will take pictures along my way so that I can match up where I'm going. Yes, have a good laugh on that one. It might work, however.
And there comes the end of a beautiful first day in Russia.
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