Behind the Urals

This is my documentation of my upcoming year in Ekaterinburg, Russia. You know, a place to keep track of all the vodka shots, give the play-by-play of the bear fights, assure my parents that I am still alive, and hopefully keep in touch with all of you.

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Falling In Line/Strutting My Stuff

Since arriving to Russia in August and beginning the long process of cultural adjustment, I have had a constant question in my mind about when it is necessary to follow Russian cultural standards and when it is appropriate and perhaps necessary to protect my American self. The question is constant largely because the relevant moments are generally ordinary and mundane: can I answer my cell phone in class? do I need to wear a hat today? what do I want for dinner tonight? I came here concerned about being culturally sensitive, but soon realized that I also need to make sure that I find times and places for my Americanness as well…and the balancing act of doing so has become my journey is cultural assimilation.

In the last month, this question has suddenly become more apparent and defined in my behavior. And thus the title of this entry: in many aspects of my ordinary life here, I have spent the last month either almost entirely assimilating or completely rebelling—in between these two options right now there seems to be little room for common ground.

I first noticed this development when a few things about myself unexpectedly “russified.” First, in the course of a three-day trip to Izhevsk, I started to like two staples of Russian life that I swore I would NEVER like: instant coffee [forgive me] and carbonated water. I honestly don’t know what happened—it was as if all the sudden the radiation had gone to my head and what before had tasted disgusting was now wonderful. That same week, I found myself craving grechka [buckwheat] and regularly cleaning the dirt off of my shoes and the bottom of my jeans without complaint. While walking on the street, I noticed that for the most part, I have stopped smiling and I don’t usually apologize when I push past people to get onto a crowded bus. To top it all off, when walking into the university a couple weeks ago, I saw my friend Polina and said hi. She looked really confused as she said hello back—later in the day, she told me that she hadn’t recognized me because I “looked so Russian.” I spent the rest of the day trying to decide if I should be flattered or seriously reconsidering my recent wardrobe choices.

Now, this last week, I first recognized the flipside of this dichotomy. The weather has taken a balmy turn here, so much so that even most of the mud has disappeared and/or turned to dust. As a result, I have been running often, despite the fact that I turn more heads per capita than perhaps if Lenin himself was walking down the street. Because of this attention, I used to feel self-conscious and avoid running except within the safety of parks, where only old grandmothers and tiny children can mock me. But something has changed recently: perhaps emboldened by my Wolfmother/Ani Difranco music mix, I smile at the people staring at me. I smirk at the groups of young men who make rude remarks as I run pass them, confident that I can outrun them if necessary, especially considering most of them are usually about two packs of cigarettes and four beers into the day by the time they see me. I ignore the concerned comments that I should probably put a hat on and I wonder to myself how all the women who are still wearing fur coats are not passing out from heat exhaustion. And after the run, like the exercise-addicted American that I still am, I feel great, reenergized, and ready to tackle the massive to-do list that I created for myself before I hit the streets.

These little changes cross into all the everyday aspects of my life, like fashion, food, and my daily routine. Right now, America and Russia are going punch for punch and they each seem to be winning their own sets of battles. The other day I wore a sweatshirt on the street for the first time in months, but the next day I spent 30 minutes trying to match my scarf, hat, coat, shoes, and purse for a presentation where I was going to probably going to remove the first three items at the coat check before I even saw anyone who might care about how I looked. While cultural assimilation seemed to be an overwhelming process in September and October, right now it somehow feels natural. I think that I am unconsciously boiling myself down to the essential and deciding, in an odd form of spring cleaning, what behaviors can be thrown out and what are here to stay for good. I’m not sure what will be left in the end: a loud and still overly political American, no doubt, but perhaps one with a mean face, a strange wardrobe complete with a hat to match every outfit, and an odd affection for techno music [just kidding! that last one will never happen].

[For those of you who are wondering, life in general is going great here. Work is plugging along, with the biggest news being that the first version of the database for Crisis Center Ekaterina launched last week. My parents visited and managed to survive and even enjoy (or so I am told) all the wonders and challenges that the Urals have to offer in the muddy month of March. At school, I am busy with a whole new round of presentations about America, as well as the production of a Russian play where all the parts are going to be played by foreigners. And, in between all that, I have been enjoying the spring both in the city and the country, and trying to make the most in the last few months with my crazy (but wonderful) Russian/international community].