I love the Internet

Hello hello!

I apologize for the recent silence and what is going to be a mediocre update. I have been shut out of the internet more times than I can count in the past two weeks and as a result I am only now getting around to the backlog of blogs and emails and pictures that I have sitting around on my desktop. As I write this, I am getting ready to leave the city again for Kalinovo [the town where Alfina’s parents live]. This time promises to be wild—we are celebrating her brother-in-law’s 30^th birthday! I asked if girls also have to consume vodka on such holidays and they responded “tol’ko chut’ chut’” [just a little!]. Here’s to hoping I hold my own…

The biggest event in the past two weeks was the opening of IKEA last Saturday. After going to a museum exhibit with all the international students, we organized a mass exodus to IKEA. Or attempted to. First, we waited at a bus stop where we [and about 200 other Russians] thought the free shuttle bus was supposed to run from. After waiting in the freezing cold for over an hour, I broke down and said, “Let’s just pay for a gypsy taxi.” [See word of the week]. Alexei [sole Russian along for our adventure] looks at me and says “I can call my friend with a marshutka and have him pick up us all up.” The intonation of the word “friend” fueled my suspicion that Alexei, who often works through the entire night, is a member of the powerful Ekat mafia [for more information about Alexei, you can see Josefina’s blog, nothingbutperfection.blogspot.com]. Either way, the marshutka showed up and we were off—into 45 minutes of bumper-to-bumper traffic. When we got to IKEA, we again had to wait 20 minutes on the street just to get into the store! Once we finally entered, everyone started screaming along with Midore. There were so many people there that you had to just follow the crowd in the direction that they walked. We grabbed as many things as we could, ate some excellent Swedish meatballs, and lost each other many times. In the end, we stood in line for over an hour and a half to pay for our purchases. It was a very strange experience in which Soviet Russia [long lines and too many people] met contemporary Russia, full of foreign products and credit card machines. In the course of the adventure, I taught everyone the foot game and acquired an awesome dragon blanket that is resting comfortably on top of my hammock/bed : )

There are pictures of the adventure up on the facebook, along with pictures from my first trip to the ballet, which was awesome. We saw Swan Lake and afterwards, Midore, Josefina, and I danced on the street and decided to give up our study of Russian language in order to become ballerinas.

And now I’d like to introduce you all to my new plan for the blog: word of the week. It’s my attempt to talk more about the ordinary things in Russia and in my life here as a crazy American foreigner. If you let me know what you want to hear about, I’ll do my best to include it [food, climate, language, or the amazing fashion of Russian men: the possibilities are endless!].

Word of the Week: Gypsy Cab

Gypsy Cab: n. 1.English term used to describe an ordinary car that is used as a makeshift taxi; 2. Russian hitchhiking; 3. Slang for any car in Russia.

In Russia, any car can function as a taxi at any given moment. This occurs because a) legitimate taxi cabs are insanely expensive; b) public transportation stops around 10:00 PM; c) the majority of Russian citizens still don’t have cars. Unlike American hitchhiking, which I generally think of as a risky method for traveling around the entire country, gypsy cabs are frequently used to get around town, most often as a quick way to get home when the rains starts falling and you are without an umbrella.

There is a whole system of appropriate behavior from start to finish. To get a gypsy cab, you stand on any major street and hold out your hand, just like you were hailing a normal taxi. When a car pulls over, you open the passenger door, lean in, and tell the driver where you want to go. He might say no at this point or he might offer you a price. The cost of the ride is always determined before you enter the car—you always pay only when you have reached your destination. After the price has been set, the group enters the car and you’re off.

After avoiding gypsy cabs for the entirety of my first stay in Russia, I spent my first couple trips hyperventilating the entire ride. When I got to Ekaterinburg, however, I realized that it is one of the primary means of transportation. I also learned that there are a few rules of conduct that ensure a safe and enjoyable ride:

1. Never travel alone.

2. Never travel without a Russian and/or someone whose Russian can pass for a native speaker’s.

3. If you don’t fall into either of those two groups, don’t speak while you are in the car. [This is just a tried and true method of ensuring that you don’t the get “foreigner tax” attached to your price].

A few weeks ago Jen, Josefina, Midore, and I took a gypsy cab home from a wi-fi restaurant. We had explained to Midore what we were going to do, but evidently she didn’t quite understand, because when we got in the car, her eyes opened up as large as saucers and she gripped my arm the whole way home. When we finally got out at our dorm, she looked at us and said “So how do you know that man????”.

The best gypsy cab ride that I have had to date was back from the market with Defri, Midore, Artyem, and Alya. We ended up with an ancient Russian beetle [the smallest, crappiest kind of Russian car around] with four people scrunched into the back seat. I was sitting behind the driver seat and when our driver sat down, I swear the back of his seat was resting against my chest. As we drove, the whole car was shaking. Midore and I were unsuccessfully trying to hide to our laughter when I noticed that the car was shaking even more than normal and slowing down. I thought the whole car was going to start falling apart piece by piece, but no, we had merely ran out of gas. In the middle of a four-lane street, the driver jumped out, filled the tank with his emergency can, and off we went.

That concludes the first word-a-week entry. Questions on usage and origins are welcomed : )