11.11.08

This morning i went to my first russian lesson. Sergei met me at Polshad Lenina and we went back to his apartment. The apartments here are another curiosity, in that these bleak dirty ramshackle buildings that loom menacingly overhead,all exactly the same, housing russian upon russian literally one on top of another, wherein a tiny creaky lift zooms up and down through the dark halls, can contain so many individual flourishing lives.seriously, you wouldnt expect the cheer of russian aparments- shoeboxed in such prehistoric buildings, or stdanjas. Sergei's apartment is very clean and bright, full of books on ancient history. He taught me the russian alphabet,well when i say taught, i mean showed me how to pronounce, and then watched me barely contain my frustration at being unable to roll my tongue or remember that in Russia an H is N, and an N is E, and an E is 'yeh'- dont evenget me started on the symbols for sh, ssh, ts, tsh, ju and ja. he is the bohemian ideal; intellectual without being presumptious, scared of the aggressive Moscow elite and wearied by its fashionable politics. he is sort of short, and his eyes flash when he speaks. he showed me an old satirical soviet cartoon and explained that the reason there are so many terrible traffic jams in NizhnyNovgorod is because recently russians have begun to acquire money, and are all buying cars, and that the roads have not been built to deal with so many. in general he explained that the rate of growth in russia far surpasses it'sability to deal with it, and when i wondered if the city was in shock, he explained that in fact people had been waiting for this change and growth for years, and that it wasnt a bad thing for many of them. he walked meto the bus stop, as he was getting a bus to school (he is a postgraduate student writing a thesis or something and earns money teaching 'rich children who make too many demands, which sometimes (he) cannot deal with because(he) is very emotional' (what a darling!)), my next hurdle will be getting to Polshad Lenina alone tomorrow; as Sveta showed me the way this morning. on the bus (to the city; i was planning to go to SFERA and hopefully meet other volunteers or spend my day on the internet) i met Darina luckily, so she was able to direct me off. at SFERA i met Hashaand Marie, who i then accompanied to a stationary shop and then cafe, for a crepe with jam and cherries. Marie left me and Hasha after lunch as she had to return to go to her project, i then accompanied Hasha around a couple of museums (as she works at them)doing some buisness; at the Kremlin this old babuschka (who i later learned was in fact, the cleaner!) insisted on giving me a guided tour of the artifacts, and a history of Nizhny, and biting our cheeks Hasha translated and i tried tolook attentive. it was at the Kremlin that Hasha realised she had lost her phone, and we marched the whole way back through the city to the cafe where she asked about it (Hasha can speak practically fluent Russian, as itis very similar to polish- and she lives in the east). it was at the cafe, huffing and puffing, unzipping my jacket and fleece, that i saw the most beautiful man. seriously, among the volunteers there is a general consensus that russianmen in general are quite unattractive, and although i would agree; there does exist the random Adonis that you will see roaming the streets; who completely vindicate the rest of the male population. Dima Bilan, the hottest eurovision winner ever for example. now there is an odd quality to true russian male hotness, there is something very quiet and gentle about them. as Marie pointed out, russians have very clear eyes; often blue. there is thecommon aggressively attractive russian, who are hardy looking men with blunt features and generous brows, lips and cheeks that will easily weather the depths of the russian winter and the various other ups and downs of modern post-soviet Russia, mafia and all. and then there are these gentle souls, that seem almost bird or deer like, despite not appearing scrawny or feeble whatsoever. they are like fawns. and often have the clearest fair skin, that looks like it has been breathed into, or kissed by some arctic goddess, dark velvety hair and the most expressive clear blue eyes. one such man was this, who i gawked at in the cafe, shyly reading the menu on the wall. he was perhaps one of the most beautiful people i have everseen, from a completely objective point of view, with neat bone structure and long limbs. he is a national treasure, and probably one fiercely guarded by a legion of women, as they are constantly competing for men here; and who can blame them, with a gender ration of 1:6 or something ridiculous. but seriously, russian women are always groomed and glamourous. they strutt around in knee high leather high heeled boots, and mini skirts, despite the weather. today i even saw bare knees!after the whole phone crisis, we concluded that it had been stolen, and traipsed all the way back to sfera where she got her sim cancelled, and then i sat on facebook uploading photos becasue i was bored. after an hour or soof nothing to do, Hasha invited me back to her apartment. we got a tram to Polshad Lenina, went shopping in a supermarket (where i bought apples and some other random things like paper plates- for my scented candles, and tissue)and then back to hers. where we sat in the kitchen discussing stuff and eating grapes (the fruit here is lovely), and she gave me a very interesting insight into communist poland as someone who could remember queing hours to get meat, and explaining that whenthere was food on supermarket shelves (which was very very rare), no matter how much money you had you could not buy it. in general she has a very enlightened perspective as someone with a degree in international relations. i asked if she had had any encounters with the mafia and discovered that apparently there is an illegal brothel in the building beside them! advertised as a sauna, where you can pay for a man or woman. i then successfully found my way to Moskowski Woksal onto bus number 23, off at the right stop, into the right building and home! i spent the rest of the night looking over my russian and trying to read the alphabet, of course interspersed with Siroja's playful antics and general curiousity. i had bought him this cardboard set with pieces you push out and work together to make a raindeer, and we sat for about forty minutes trying to work it out. before dinner i also helpedhim read over his english homework. he has the most adorable russian accent. im beginning to love the way Russians say 'Rachel'; Ray-Chelle- with an almost childlike pique on the 'Ray'. and i think they like saying it. so governmental bus or bowshoal avtobuse number 7 tomorrow morning...