Well, so much for consistent blogging...three weeks is really an unforgivable gap. Sorry to anybody who has been reading regularly - it's kind of hard to read regularly when the blogger fails to write regularly! Also, I want to put a note here about people's blog comments - I do read them, and I do appreciate them, but as of yet I haven't figured out how to post responses - for some reason I can never get the reply box to open!
It's taken me awhile to get in the proper mindset to blog, probably because I've had a lot on my mind recently. When I was ten, twenty seemed like the epitomy of adulthood - I mean, good grief, the Little Mermaid got married at 16, so surely four years after that you would have everything figured out in life! However, much to my dismay, I'm finding that even at the ripe old age of twenty-two I still have only an extremely small amount of anything "figured out." It feels more like the older I get, the less I realize that I actually know. Unfortunately, one of those unknowns is the answer to what I'm going to do with myself next year. My first few months in Russia I was so busy adjusting to everything that I was really too busy to ponder much about the future. And besides, it was still 2011, way too early to think about the second half of 2012 yet. However, time is marching on, and the middle of February is slipping by, and I still don't know what I will be doing in the fall. I'm torn, because part of me really wants to go home - I miss my family so much. But another part of me thinks that one year is not enough time to spend in Russia, and that now that I've found a dance group I really love, it would be foolish to throw that away after only half a year spent dancing there, especially since I doubt an equivalent company could be found back in the States. I know that I'm capable of doing any number of things, but I don't know what I want to do, so I'm rather directionless at the moment. But my antenna's tuned towards Heaven, so I'm sure I'll get an answer sooner or later (preferably sooner!) as to what God has in mind for me.
On those two notes (God + dance), I want to talk some about the dance group I've joined. It really is funny how God works. All my life He has worked miracles so that I could dance - from inspiring generosity in the heart of the studio owner when dance lessons got too expensive, to giving me a teacher who taught me so much about dance and about how it can bring such joy to others, to making it possible for me to continue dancing through college, to bringing me here to Russia, and, in this huge city with millions of people, introducing me to this small group of dancers who are doing just the kind of dancing I love. When I first came to Moscow, I thought that I had to join a professional ensemble - I had this idea in my mind that I needed to prove myself as a true dancer, and the only way to do that would be to become a member of a professional group. So at first, I was disappointed with myself when I didn't find a professional group where I seemed to fit. But now I've realized that I'm so glad I became a member of this group instead - where the dancing standards are still high, but the atmosphere is so much friendlier. I don't do very well with backbiting and nasty competitiveness - I can take it alright, but it really bothers me to inflict it on others, and to some extent you have to do that in a lot of professional companies. So I've realized that, for now, I'm exactly where I need to be. (The problem is figuring out where to go from here!)
And speaking of the dance group, let's talk about little cabbages! (Since I'm sure you're dying to know what I meant by putting that in the title!) In Russian, it's капустник (kaPUSTneek), and although it means "little cabbage," in the theatre world it's also the name for an in-house performance just for the company. It's a really fun day where everyone does silly skits, parodies each other, and does dances just for fun. We had one two weekends ago to celebrate the company's birthday, and it was great! We got there early and decorated the basketball court/studio with balloon arches and ribbons, and a makeshift stage - half the court- with one set of curtains between us and the audience and another set at the back to provide a narrow backstage area behind. Everyone, from the little four-year-olds to the parents did something. Our group did a skit where Ivan is searching for the magical flying ship Возрождение (VozrozhdYENiye) ( the name of the group), and in order to find it he has to collect magical talismans from different fairytale and popular characters. I had bit parts in some of these - one of Aladdin's accompanying dancing girls, a wizard with Harry Potter, and a snowflake in attendance on the Snow Queen - and it was really enjoyable. I wish companies in the States had this tradition, but if they do I don't know about it. I think it's healthy to laugh at yourself once in a while, and I feel like a lot of times in companies it's possible to be too serious about The Worship of the High Art of Dance and to lose perspective. Anyways, it was great fun!
Besides dancing and teaching, I haven't had time to do much else recently. At the moment I'm in a flurry of choreography-learning, because my dance group has a concert in mid-April, and I've also bought tickets to go the Bolshoi then, both of which I'm REALLY excited about. My flatmate, Tom, got a job in translating, so he has moved back to England. It's good for him; I think it's what he really wanted to do, but it's weird not seeing him around the flat anymore. However, Kristin and I are set to get a new roommate on Saturday - a girl this time - so we'll see how that works out. It almost feels like our apartment is cursed - people never seem to stay for very long!
On a completely different subject, I think I'm turning into a Russian. Well, not exactly, but I did notice some changes recently that I thought it might be amusing to note.
1. Ice is no big deal.
Back in NC, ice is a rare thing. Even the thought of the possibility of ice is a reason to cancel school, and if there is a square foot patch of ice in our driveway everyone does an elaborate dance to avoid it, pointing it out to each other, "Careful, there's ice!" All of this seems extremely amusing to me now, as the philosophy for clearing the paths in the park I walk through every day is to run a tractor with a sweeper at the back through the park once - which serves to clear away a bit of snow, but mostly just to compact it into ice. Therefore, most of the time when I'm walking I'm walking on that same dangerous substance that strikes terror in the hearts of all at home...and I'm not dead yet! I haven't even fallen down but once! This is not to say that I'm ready to run through the snow in high-heeled boots as I've seen a friend of mine do, but who knows what might happen before the ice melts?
2. -10 Celsius is WARM.
The funny thing is that, at least for me, after the temperatures drop below freezing the sensation of "cold" doesn't really intensify all that much from -5 to -30. Granted, I bundle up more, but really I feel the low temperatures more through other ways than feeling cold. At -30 the inside of your nose freezes, and your breath frosts the front of your coat, and your fingers and toes go from cool to numb in a matter of seconds if you don't have the proper gear. But -10 is really not bad at all - and after -30, it's positively balmy!
3. Part of the reason I can be so nonchalant about -10 is that I have a real Russian winter coat!
It's not true fur, but it's so warm and fuzzy and wonderful. It's not mine, but a very generous friend's. She saw my Closet Coat and decided it wasn't sufficient, and offered to let me borrow an extra coat of hers that is a bit too big for her. It's got fur around the hood and everything - I feel so delightfully Russian when I wear it!
4. I like sushi.
For the longest time, I haven't been able to stomach even the idea of sushi, but so many people told me how wonderful it was here that I finally got up the guts to try it. I thought, for some reason, that it would taste like dead raw fish smells, but it's actually pretty good! I think to some extent it's an acquired taste, but I wouldn't be against trying it again sometime.
5. I can understand and speak Russian on the phone when rousted out of bed in the morning.
A couple of days ago my landlady called me, waking me out of a sound sleep, and not only did I understand what she said, I could actually respond - I have no idea whether the grammar was correct or not, but the man actually did come to fix the sink when I thought he was coming. (Which leads to an amusing anecdote - Tom held a going-away party two weeks ago, on Saturday night. Just before the 10+ partygoers started showing up at the door, our toilet decided that the time had come to refuse to flush. At all. And all of my old house experience was to no avail, since toilets are constructed differently here. However, we made it through the party alright, and made plans to call the landlady first thing the next morning. I woke up extremely early to catch the metro to the dance studio to decorate for the kapustnik, and when I came into the bathroom an unpleasant shushing noise met my ears - the sink was leaking down the back beneath the bowl, and it had created a small puddle on the floor. I couldn't find the valve to shut off the water; I was running late, and it was 6 in the morning, so it was way too early to call the landlady, so I stuffed my towel around the base of the sink, left a note for Tom, and skedaddled. About two hours later he called me, "Um, Hannah, did you know there's a lake in the bathroom?" Apparently the poor boy, when he saw the sink was leaking, decided to turn the water on, and after that the drip became a flood, evidenced by the fact that when I came home the floor was dry but there was a mountain of damp towels, dishrags, and shirts in the bathtub.)
6. I don't read the signs in the metro.
Most of the time this means that I know where I'm going so I don't need to look anymore. But as one of my Russian friends told me when this happened to the two of us, the true test of becoming a Moskvitchka is when you end up going the wrong way because you are too busy talking to your friend to notice where you're going.
On that note, I know where I'm going right now - TO BED. Moskvitchkas need their sleep!
Look! Proof positive there is sunshine in Russia in winter!!!
It's taken me awhile to get in the proper mindset to blog, probably because I've had a lot on my mind recently. When I was ten, twenty seemed like the epitomy of adulthood - I mean, good grief, the Little Mermaid got married at 16, so surely four years after that you would have everything figured out in life! However, much to my dismay, I'm finding that even at the ripe old age of twenty-two I still have only an extremely small amount of anything "figured out." It feels more like the older I get, the less I realize that I actually know. Unfortunately, one of those unknowns is the answer to what I'm going to do with myself next year. My first few months in Russia I was so busy adjusting to everything that I was really too busy to ponder much about the future. And besides, it was still 2011, way too early to think about the second half of 2012 yet. However, time is marching on, and the middle of February is slipping by, and I still don't know what I will be doing in the fall. I'm torn, because part of me really wants to go home - I miss my family so much. But another part of me thinks that one year is not enough time to spend in Russia, and that now that I've found a dance group I really love, it would be foolish to throw that away after only half a year spent dancing there, especially since I doubt an equivalent company could be found back in the States. I know that I'm capable of doing any number of things, but I don't know what I want to do, so I'm rather directionless at the moment. But my antenna's tuned towards Heaven, so I'm sure I'll get an answer sooner or later (preferably sooner!) as to what God has in mind for me.
On those two notes (God + dance), I want to talk some about the dance group I've joined. It really is funny how God works. All my life He has worked miracles so that I could dance - from inspiring generosity in the heart of the studio owner when dance lessons got too expensive, to giving me a teacher who taught me so much about dance and about how it can bring such joy to others, to making it possible for me to continue dancing through college, to bringing me here to Russia, and, in this huge city with millions of people, introducing me to this small group of dancers who are doing just the kind of dancing I love. When I first came to Moscow, I thought that I had to join a professional ensemble - I had this idea in my mind that I needed to prove myself as a true dancer, and the only way to do that would be to become a member of a professional group. So at first, I was disappointed with myself when I didn't find a professional group where I seemed to fit. But now I've realized that I'm so glad I became a member of this group instead - where the dancing standards are still high, but the atmosphere is so much friendlier. I don't do very well with backbiting and nasty competitiveness - I can take it alright, but it really bothers me to inflict it on others, and to some extent you have to do that in a lot of professional companies. So I've realized that, for now, I'm exactly where I need to be. (The problem is figuring out where to go from here!)
And speaking of the dance group, let's talk about little cabbages! (Since I'm sure you're dying to know what I meant by putting that in the title!) In Russian, it's капустник (kaPUSTneek), and although it means "little cabbage," in the theatre world it's also the name for an in-house performance just for the company. It's a really fun day where everyone does silly skits, parodies each other, and does dances just for fun. We had one two weekends ago to celebrate the company's birthday, and it was great! We got there early and decorated the basketball court/studio with balloon arches and ribbons, and a makeshift stage - half the court- with one set of curtains between us and the audience and another set at the back to provide a narrow backstage area behind. Everyone, from the little four-year-olds to the parents did something. Our group did a skit where Ivan is searching for the magical flying ship Возрождение (VozrozhdYENiye) ( the name of the group), and in order to find it he has to collect magical talismans from different fairytale and popular characters. I had bit parts in some of these - one of Aladdin's accompanying dancing girls, a wizard with Harry Potter, and a snowflake in attendance on the Snow Queen - and it was really enjoyable. I wish companies in the States had this tradition, but if they do I don't know about it. I think it's healthy to laugh at yourself once in a while, and I feel like a lot of times in companies it's possible to be too serious about The Worship of the High Art of Dance and to lose perspective. Anyways, it was great fun!
Besides dancing and teaching, I haven't had time to do much else recently. At the moment I'm in a flurry of choreography-learning, because my dance group has a concert in mid-April, and I've also bought tickets to go the Bolshoi then, both of which I'm REALLY excited about. My flatmate, Tom, got a job in translating, so he has moved back to England. It's good for him; I think it's what he really wanted to do, but it's weird not seeing him around the flat anymore. However, Kristin and I are set to get a new roommate on Saturday - a girl this time - so we'll see how that works out. It almost feels like our apartment is cursed - people never seem to stay for very long!
On a completely different subject, I think I'm turning into a Russian. Well, not exactly, but I did notice some changes recently that I thought it might be amusing to note.
1. Ice is no big deal.
Back in NC, ice is a rare thing. Even the thought of the possibility of ice is a reason to cancel school, and if there is a square foot patch of ice in our driveway everyone does an elaborate dance to avoid it, pointing it out to each other, "Careful, there's ice!" All of this seems extremely amusing to me now, as the philosophy for clearing the paths in the park I walk through every day is to run a tractor with a sweeper at the back through the park once - which serves to clear away a bit of snow, but mostly just to compact it into ice. Therefore, most of the time when I'm walking I'm walking on that same dangerous substance that strikes terror in the hearts of all at home...and I'm not dead yet! I haven't even fallen down but once! This is not to say that I'm ready to run through the snow in high-heeled boots as I've seen a friend of mine do, but who knows what might happen before the ice melts?
2. -10 Celsius is WARM.
The funny thing is that, at least for me, after the temperatures drop below freezing the sensation of "cold" doesn't really intensify all that much from -5 to -30. Granted, I bundle up more, but really I feel the low temperatures more through other ways than feeling cold. At -30 the inside of your nose freezes, and your breath frosts the front of your coat, and your fingers and toes go from cool to numb in a matter of seconds if you don't have the proper gear. But -10 is really not bad at all - and after -30, it's positively balmy!
some sunrise shots walking to work at 9:00
the ice rink in the park - planning to go skating there sometime!
sunset on the same day, walking home from work at 6:00
3. Part of the reason I can be so nonchalant about -10 is that I have a real Russian winter coat!
It's not true fur, but it's so warm and fuzzy and wonderful. It's not mine, but a very generous friend's. She saw my Closet Coat and decided it wasn't sufficient, and offered to let me borrow an extra coat of hers that is a bit too big for her. It's got fur around the hood and everything - I feel so delightfully Russian when I wear it!
4. I like sushi.
For the longest time, I haven't been able to stomach even the idea of sushi, but so many people told me how wonderful it was here that I finally got up the guts to try it. I thought, for some reason, that it would taste like dead raw fish smells, but it's actually pretty good! I think to some extent it's an acquired taste, but I wouldn't be against trying it again sometime.
photographic proof
5. I can understand and speak Russian on the phone when rousted out of bed in the morning.
A couple of days ago my landlady called me, waking me out of a sound sleep, and not only did I understand what she said, I could actually respond - I have no idea whether the grammar was correct or not, but the man actually did come to fix the sink when I thought he was coming. (Which leads to an amusing anecdote - Tom held a going-away party two weeks ago, on Saturday night. Just before the 10+ partygoers started showing up at the door, our toilet decided that the time had come to refuse to flush. At all. And all of my old house experience was to no avail, since toilets are constructed differently here. However, we made it through the party alright, and made plans to call the landlady first thing the next morning. I woke up extremely early to catch the metro to the dance studio to decorate for the kapustnik, and when I came into the bathroom an unpleasant shushing noise met my ears - the sink was leaking down the back beneath the bowl, and it had created a small puddle on the floor. I couldn't find the valve to shut off the water; I was running late, and it was 6 in the morning, so it was way too early to call the landlady, so I stuffed my towel around the base of the sink, left a note for Tom, and skedaddled. About two hours later he called me, "Um, Hannah, did you know there's a lake in the bathroom?" Apparently the poor boy, when he saw the sink was leaking, decided to turn the water on, and after that the drip became a flood, evidenced by the fact that when I came home the floor was dry but there was a mountain of damp towels, dishrags, and shirts in the bathtub.)
6. I don't read the signs in the metro.
Most of the time this means that I know where I'm going so I don't need to look anymore. But as one of my Russian friends told me when this happened to the two of us, the true test of becoming a Moskvitchka is when you end up going the wrong way because you are too busy talking to your friend to notice where you're going.
On that note, I know where I'm going right now - TO BED. Moskvitchkas need their sleep!
