Right now I am asking myself what I am doing here. I am here ostensibly to learn Russian, but what do I want to do that for? I suppose partly to tread sleaze for a couple years, and partly because the languages I learned before- French and German- are if anything waning in importance, leaving me with skills that will be of virtually no use by the time I get to middle age. So in the name of prudence I have chosen Russian, which, alas is anything but a safe bet. Everything in Russia is a bit of a wild card, and the language is no exception. Will this prove to be useful? Who knows. Am I learning quickly? Yes, but not quickly enough, because at this pace I could stay for a decade and still not speak at the level I'd like to reach.
The only way to get to that level would be to live like a Russian: swap my job of English for that of entry-level sales guy in a multinational company and consequently cut my pay in half; move outside of city limits and see my commute time triple; double my work hours. I just can't sustain the level of masochism that requires for the amount of time needed.
Before, I could assuage my doubts with the thought that I was treading sleaze to find out what it was like, but now I feel relatively safe, and while I am savoring the respite, few things are as uncomfortable for me as comfort is. I want to do something dangerous, something where I wake up in the morning and sincerely wonder if I'll end up in a Russian slammer for a couple days.
Nothing puts me ill at ease more than comfort, and I am definitely comfortable now. Nothing really interesting has happened in quite awhile, hence the largely retroseptic quality of this blog. Next time I will delev back into some revolting moments I have experiences here. Some people have complained that I have got nothing good to say about this place, but please Russians, understand that that's just because I am much better at writing about ugly moments than beautiful ones. I guess that's the mark of a hack.
среда, 24 сентября 2008 г.
пятница, 19 сентября 2008 г.
Novaia Zemlia
I suggest that everyone see Novaia Zemlia. Even if you don't understand the dialog, which I didn't, you really should download it. It is a b-film prison drama smart enough to know that its masquerade as an earnest look into step-by-step behind bars dehumanization is just an excuse for axe fights without armor and on-screen people-eating is just that, a masquerade.
The plot is like this: a group of Russian prisoners is secretly sent by the UN to colonize an Arctic island, and when they land with hands still in shackles they are provided with just enough food, water and tools (i.e., axes) to last them three months. In addition, numbered keys matching the prisoners' handcuff numbers are left in a heap on the beach; the prisoners precipitate towards the keys, and the first ones to find their match rush back to the crates full of axes and begin slaughtering the ones still in shackles. One of the prisoners just walks off, deciding to subsist alone in the woods rather than subsist among degenerates.
He is soon joined by another prison, but after trying to live off sea slime in the dead of winter, they come crawling back to the prison colony together and wind up falling asleep in a heap of still-warm ashes. One of them is awakened by prisoners carrying a dead guy on a spit towards the fire, but the two get caught and dragged back to camp.
They discover that the prisoners, instead of creating a new society on the island, had simply continued living in prison fashion, right down to the inflatable sex dolls. The prisoners create an institution to resolve their food shortage: the rank and file live crammed together in a barracks, and during the afternoon walk, a lackey announces that the last one inside the barracks gets eaten.
The plot is like this: a group of Russian prisoners is secretly sent by the UN to colonize an Arctic island, and when they land with hands still in shackles they are provided with just enough food, water and tools (i.e., axes) to last them three months. In addition, numbered keys matching the prisoners' handcuff numbers are left in a heap on the beach; the prisoners precipitate towards the keys, and the first ones to find their match rush back to the crates full of axes and begin slaughtering the ones still in shackles. One of the prisoners just walks off, deciding to subsist alone in the woods rather than subsist among degenerates.
He is soon joined by another prison, but after trying to live off sea slime in the dead of winter, they come crawling back to the prison colony together and wind up falling asleep in a heap of still-warm ashes. One of them is awakened by prisoners carrying a dead guy on a spit towards the fire, but the two get caught and dragged back to camp.
They discover that the prisoners, instead of creating a new society on the island, had simply continued living in prison fashion, right down to the inflatable sex dolls. The prisoners create an institution to resolve their food shortage: the rank and file live crammed together in a barracks, and during the afternoon walk, a lackey announces that the last one inside the barracks gets eaten.
понедельник, 8 сентября 2008 г.
Passing on the Chalice of Slime to the Chinese
People were displeased by my last posting. That is understandable- most of the drivel I wrote about the US was so rote, so typical, so obvious and un-subtle that you'd expect it from a Frenchman. My mom for one pointed out the pollution caused by the Chinese- she noted rivers frothing with poison, maroon-colored stagnant pools, and to her list of horrors I'd like to add vast heaps of carcinogenic white powder, the byproduct of solar panel manufacturing; whole cities forced to wear face masks to be able to breathe; whole regions made desitute by earthquake-causing dam-building efforts. But let's not forget that the US and Western Europe are buying pollution-intensive goods made in China.
Russians also like to smirk at the US and its pollution, but what they often don't realize is that Russia is PAYED TO POLLUTE. Russia signed the Kyoto Protocol, and this means that they have to reduce the countries emission of greenhouse gases to 1990 levels. That's fortunate for Russia, because in 1990 Soviet heavy industry was still intact and polluted far more than current Russian industry. That means Russia has the right to INCREASE its greenhouse gas emissions to 1990 levels, and until the Russians manage to pull that off, they actually get a credit for being below 1990 CO2emissions.
Russians also like to talk about how the US uses so much gas, and pollutes with it, and at the same time want to be loved for providing the oil and gas that we use to pollute. In other words, they want it both ways: get rich selling us pollutants, and complain that we pollute with them.
I did promise to talk about teabag, and will get around to that, but let me say for now that I have two nice new students, 11-year old twin girls who already speak English reasonably well. They are a bit far from the center, which means I have to travel a lot to get to their place, but they are just so nice that I forget about the distance and time and talk about the swings and monkey bars with them. I am lucky to have such a job, although in the long run I am not developing any additional skills directly related to my work.
In other news, I am now taking Spanish classes. I took Spanish for four years in high school, and feel that it is such a low-hanging plum that I'd be a fool not to pluck it. And besides, the other languages I know are at best a craps shoot in terms of money-making utility. I don't feel I am making much progress in Spanish, but I guess that is typical of me: take two classes and bemoan that I haven't progressed yet.
Russians also like to smirk at the US and its pollution, but what they often don't realize is that Russia is PAYED TO POLLUTE. Russia signed the Kyoto Protocol, and this means that they have to reduce the countries emission of greenhouse gases to 1990 levels. That's fortunate for Russia, because in 1990 Soviet heavy industry was still intact and polluted far more than current Russian industry. That means Russia has the right to INCREASE its greenhouse gas emissions to 1990 levels, and until the Russians manage to pull that off, they actually get a credit for being below 1990 CO2emissions.
Russians also like to talk about how the US uses so much gas, and pollutes with it, and at the same time want to be loved for providing the oil and gas that we use to pollute. In other words, they want it both ways: get rich selling us pollutants, and complain that we pollute with them.
I did promise to talk about teabag, and will get around to that, but let me say for now that I have two nice new students, 11-year old twin girls who already speak English reasonably well. They are a bit far from the center, which means I have to travel a lot to get to their place, but they are just so nice that I forget about the distance and time and talk about the swings and monkey bars with them. I am lucky to have such a job, although in the long run I am not developing any additional skills directly related to my work.
In other news, I am now taking Spanish classes. I took Spanish for four years in high school, and feel that it is such a low-hanging plum that I'd be a fool not to pluck it. And besides, the other languages I know are at best a craps shoot in terms of money-making utility. I don't feel I am making much progress in Spanish, but I guess that is typical of me: take two classes and bemoan that I haven't progressed yet.
четверг, 4 сентября 2008 г.
Caveats
In my last post, I promised to introduce you to Teabag, but for now I feel obliged to go back on my word. Some Russians reading the blog feel I am not being objective, and indeed from the very beginning I have felt that to be true. I also know that there is a certain smugness that people feel towards Russia, and that smugness is now co-mingled with fear and even hate now that Russia is doing better. If that describes you, and you are American, I have a bucket of slime to pour on your head towards the end of this entry. If you read everything except the bucket of slime, then you are a coward. Sorry, those are the facts.
Here are some more facts: since I came to Russia two years ago, I have managed to pay a good portion of my debts, more than I would have been able to pay in the US; by the time I leave I will likely have good command of two more foreign languages, namely Russian and Spanish; I will have experienced more in two or three years than I would likely experience in two decades in the US; while I have been thrown out of my flat numerous times, I have lived in Russian friends' houses free of charge equally as often.
Americans' and West Europeans' stereotype of Russia is as follows: slovenly drunk males staggering down the street, or maybe laying down on it; radiant, desperate women dying to leave the country, hopefully with a sober man; laws which are not laws; contracts which are not contracts; vast, derelict factories; cops who take bribes and are aligned with organized crime.
Although I don't know about the cops, the rest is true. My experience here has not undone my stereotypes, but rather embellished them. But it is far from the whole story.
Russians' stereotype of Americans is as follows: ignorant, slovenly, overweight women inexplicably paired with good-looking men; people who believe that America singlehandendly won the Second World War; terrible food; corrupt corporations that push the US into wars simply to enrich shareholders; Jews who run the whole damn thing.
I am with them on all but the last point. But really, in the future, every time you read this and smirk at The Drunk Russian Bullies, don't forget that we come from a country that routinely goes to war for no reason, don't forget that the US is arguably the world's biggest polluter, don't forget that a good portion of US voters don't know the furst thing about geogaphy or history; don't forget about those great tubs waddling down the streets; don't forget that we consume more of the world's natural resources than any other country and give almost nothing back. We are a country which has turned into a pig.
Here are some more facts: since I came to Russia two years ago, I have managed to pay a good portion of my debts, more than I would have been able to pay in the US; by the time I leave I will likely have good command of two more foreign languages, namely Russian and Spanish; I will have experienced more in two or three years than I would likely experience in two decades in the US; while I have been thrown out of my flat numerous times, I have lived in Russian friends' houses free of charge equally as often.
Americans' and West Europeans' stereotype of Russia is as follows: slovenly drunk males staggering down the street, or maybe laying down on it; radiant, desperate women dying to leave the country, hopefully with a sober man; laws which are not laws; contracts which are not contracts; vast, derelict factories; cops who take bribes and are aligned with organized crime.
Although I don't know about the cops, the rest is true. My experience here has not undone my stereotypes, but rather embellished them. But it is far from the whole story.
Russians' stereotype of Americans is as follows: ignorant, slovenly, overweight women inexplicably paired with good-looking men; people who believe that America singlehandendly won the Second World War; terrible food; corrupt corporations that push the US into wars simply to enrich shareholders; Jews who run the whole damn thing.
I am with them on all but the last point. But really, in the future, every time you read this and smirk at The Drunk Russian Bullies, don't forget that we come from a country that routinely goes to war for no reason, don't forget that the US is arguably the world's biggest polluter, don't forget that a good portion of US voters don't know the furst thing about geogaphy or history; don't forget about those great tubs waddling down the streets; don't forget that we consume more of the world's natural resources than any other country and give almost nothing back. We are a country which has turned into a pig.
понедельник, 1 сентября 2008 г.
Introducing Teabag
The last post was more of an effort to keep friends and family up to date, and less intended as a source of entertainment.
My next post will introduce you to Teabag, an Epgyptian whom I have named in honor of the eponymous sexual act. For now, though, I must lunch.
My next post will introduce you to Teabag, an Epgyptian whom I have named in honor of the eponymous sexual act. For now, though, I must lunch.
Still Searching for People of Unimpeachable Honesty
A few posts ago I mentioned that my landlord and landlady were people of unimpeachable honesty. I retract those words, and also retract some of the scorn I reserved for Charlemagne, who had agreed to live in my flat for two months during my vacation and then pulled out of the deal unannounced, which could have resulted in me being left homeless without notice.
What happened instead is that my 2-room apartment was completely vacant when I returned. How did it turn out that way? Charlemagne was planning on living in that flat alone, which would have been fair considering I paid half the rent, and he agreed to pay the other half. Instead, the landlord and landlady decided to try to get more cash out of the situation by inviting a second person to live in the flat, i.e., they wanted to collect money from three people instead of two.
They invited a Canadian to live there, who may or not have been the omni-sexual whoremonger who had been interested in my spare several months before. Charlemagne, upon learning that he was going to be living with a stranger, decided not to move in. And then the Canadian evaporated a well, leaving the landlord and landlady with almost no money for that month.
They never told me that. And because they lost the extra money, they want me to pay my rent tomorrow instead of on the 11th, their way of getting 8 days rent back. I could fight them over this, but I am tired of fighting people over shit like this.
Why do I have this obsession with finding people of unimpeachable honesty? Because they are so rare. I want to find one and then be able to say, -I had mostly bad experiences every time money or living arrangements were involved, but you know, I met this one person, and he shattered all the myths. He never lied to me once. And so I can say that it's not all bad over there-. But so far it just isn't so. Because it just doesn't pay to be honest here.
In any case I have a new roommate moving in, and now that I think about who I have taken I am more than a bit worried. The guy is a bit of a motormouth, but what I am really worried about is that he loves listening to blaring country music, especially on Sunday afternoons. Yesterday was Sunday, and I really just treasured the silence and the fact that for once I could sleep all day and do exactly NOTHING in complete silence. If that kind of day disappears from my life, things will get really unpleasant for me very soon. When I am here in Moscow, I often complain about Russian pop music, which generally is pretty toxic, but then I return home and find myself waiting in line at Wal-Mart or the post office, and listening to country. In those moments I think to myself: give me my Russian pop back.
What happened instead is that my 2-room apartment was completely vacant when I returned. How did it turn out that way? Charlemagne was planning on living in that flat alone, which would have been fair considering I paid half the rent, and he agreed to pay the other half. Instead, the landlord and landlady decided to try to get more cash out of the situation by inviting a second person to live in the flat, i.e., they wanted to collect money from three people instead of two.
They invited a Canadian to live there, who may or not have been the omni-sexual whoremonger who had been interested in my spare several months before. Charlemagne, upon learning that he was going to be living with a stranger, decided not to move in. And then the Canadian evaporated a well, leaving the landlord and landlady with almost no money for that month.
They never told me that. And because they lost the extra money, they want me to pay my rent tomorrow instead of on the 11th, their way of getting 8 days rent back. I could fight them over this, but I am tired of fighting people over shit like this.
Why do I have this obsession with finding people of unimpeachable honesty? Because they are so rare. I want to find one and then be able to say, -I had mostly bad experiences every time money or living arrangements were involved, but you know, I met this one person, and he shattered all the myths. He never lied to me once. And so I can say that it's not all bad over there-. But so far it just isn't so. Because it just doesn't pay to be honest here.
In any case I have a new roommate moving in, and now that I think about who I have taken I am more than a bit worried. The guy is a bit of a motormouth, but what I am really worried about is that he loves listening to blaring country music, especially on Sunday afternoons. Yesterday was Sunday, and I really just treasured the silence and the fact that for once I could sleep all day and do exactly NOTHING in complete silence. If that kind of day disappears from my life, things will get really unpleasant for me very soon. When I am here in Moscow, I often complain about Russian pop music, which generally is pretty toxic, but then I return home and find myself waiting in line at Wal-Mart or the post office, and listening to country. In those moments I think to myself: give me my Russian pop back.
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