Welcome to Казань!

A friend asked me to describe my first impressions of what Kazan' was like.  That's tough.  I've never seen anything like it.  I envision a 10-th century artist commissioned to paint a highly detailed portrait of purgatory using only bright shades of blue, purple, orange and green, all while strapped to an i-v that provides a steady dose of psilocybin.  This place is literally out of this world.  And for more reasons than one.  I've realized that in relation to those of you back in the states, I'm actually writing these posts from the future.  When you lay down to sleep, I will have already slept, woken up, Skyped, douched (how funny is it that that's how you say shower in Russian...every morning the old lady I live with asks me how my douche was...priceless), eaten my morning porridge, hot dogs, chai, cucumbers and open-faced cheese and butter sandwiches, again, all before you dose off.  That's right.  I'm the terminator, who in ten weeks will be sent back from the future to save Russian / American foreign relations from judgment day.  I now know what it means when you cry.  It is something I could never do.  

 

We took a bus from the airport that first day.  The "airport" consisted of one large plane, which we flew in on, one small building and a truck with 3 big, burlly, Tatars on it.  They drove us from the plane to the building and then drove back to the plane to pick up our bags.  They then drove the bags back to the building, formed a line and pulled the bags one by one off the truck, stacking them in the building.  We just walked up and took our bags.  It was actually all relatively simple.  None of this going to baggage claims, lost bags, waiting around, etc.  I imagine that if my bags were not on that truck, I'd have never seen them again.  We picked up our bags and got on a giant bus, which drove us an hour into the city.  The geography around here is similar to that of Kansas, only with more trees, bigger bugs and slightly more-elevated topography.  Keep in mind we're in south-central Russia, in an area known as the "steppe".  Basically, just rolling hills for thousands of miles.  We approached the city and began to see signs of life.  There were old Soviet housing complexes, small hotels, dachas hear and there.  We began to see more people...all seemingly very different from one another.  Many were wearing traditional Islamic dress, but were not middle eastern.  I know a slav when I see one.  Others appeared to be Russian through and through.  Still others had Asiatic blood in them.  Others appeared to be of Turkik descent, and there were even a number of African descent.  Crazy.  We've come to understand that this city is home to Orthodox and Catholic Christians, Muslims, Protestants, Jews and other smaller religions.  What's crazy is that they are all welcomed by local government and given free rain to display symbols of their faith proudly.  It's something the whole city prides itself on.  Everywhere you look, there are crosses, half moons, etc.  There are even these monuments with 5-pointed stars, each point representing a major religion.  We took a walk to Kremlin a couple days ago and saw Russia's largest mosque, which is apparently unique because it is always open to non-believers.  The same holds true for the Orthodox churches.  All they ask is that you cover your head, don't talk and don't take pictures.  What's even crazier is that everyone, no matter how different, speaks Russian.  I've come to wonder if this is a remnant of Soviet oppression and influence or some kind of futuristic, progressive society where the socialist experiment worked on some level.  

 

The bus dropped each us off at or near the homes of our host families.  I was the third person to be called.  Masha, our student liaison and a very kind, helpful linguistics graduate (woot!), called out my name.  I was pretty nervous.  I kept thinking, mother of god, what am I going to say.  Keep in mind, I was on hour ten of the "no-english" rule.  I got off the bus, turned and saw Irina Sergeevna Volodina.  She was laughing, which made me laugh, before any words were spoken.  And then she said "Big Samuel! Big Samuel!" about seven times.  She grabbed the fifty-pound guitar case from my hand and when I said, it might be too heavy, she laughed and said "нормально"...normal. We walked up a big hill, through some back alleys, up to the back door of a giant apartment building. She asked me if I understood any Russian. I said yes. Then she talked the whole way. And really hasn't stopped since then. We walked up two flights of dusty stairs and into a newly remodeled, two-bedroom Russian flat, complete with icons and traditional Russian knick-naks. I met her 16 yr old grandson Sasha, and her "new husband" Rake. Rake (pronounced like the garden tool) is a 17yr old black poodle who is blind and deaf. Irina really likes Rake because he doesn’t talk back.

I've been given my own room, three hearty meals a day, and a nice shower heated by match and open flame. What's best is that Sasha has not only allowed me to use his Wifi connection, but that he owns two guitars that we play together quite a bit. I couldn’t have been more lucky. We drink tea all the time. It's a tea onslaught. Yesterday, we made borsch together. When I asked Irina which soap to use to wash the dishes, she looked at me like I was crazy. She asked me if I washed the dishes in America. When I said yes, she looked even more wierded-out and asked what it was, exactly, that my fiancé' did? I laughed and said that we shared the chores. Irina thought this was great and very progressive. However, she informed me that I wouldn’t be doing any dishes while in Russia. It was my job to study and relax. So I made a deal with her. There would be at least three days throughout my trip that she would do nothing. I would do the cooking and cleaning. She laughed. Everything has been pretty great so far. I've gone out the past couple nights with some Russians and fellow colleagues. We had dinner together Friday night and then last night we went ice skating, which was awesome. I've been taking a lot of pictures, which will be posted on my Facebook page. I still haven't figured out how to publish "albums" on here. Suppose that's all for now. Today we're going to the dacha to harvest potatoes.

Best regards,

From the future.