Apartments

An interesting fact I found out from talking to the European volunteers here is that landlords and -ladies have the legal right to come into the apartment you are renting from them at any time.

Luckily, my landlord understands the idea of privacy and always lets me know when he needs to come by and arranges a time when we can both be there. And anyways I have a chain on the second door (why do all Soviet apartments have multiple doors? for this reason?) so it's cool.

Unfortunately, a lot of the European volunteers have had serious issues with unannounced visits from landladies, who then pitch a fit about (of all things) unwashed dishes in the sink. Of all the things that will cause permanent damage to an apartment, unwashed dishes are definitely not one of them. (Thank goodness the Goode family, my AZ condo landlords, didn't have this rule!) It's such a weird concept that it's actually acceptable for someone to come into your home and tell you how much you should be cleaning. Very different mindset than in the U.S.

I can see that landlords and -ladies might want to have this control because in Moldova the whole idea of an advance damage deposit wouldn't work. Who would enforce the return of the money? Everything is so informal here, and good luck going to the cops. (Brief tangent: The market right across from the police station in Comrat was robbed last year. As one of my colleagues said, "This is the shame of our city!") At the same time, if you're not willing to see things in your apartment get a little roughed up...don't rent your apartment!

The strangest thing about this whole situation was the attitude that the European volunteers' organization took to this when one of the current volunteers said they should inform future volunteers about this problem in advance.

"Well, I thought you were all adults and I didn't need to tell you to clean up after yourself."

Ah, parochialism. Something we won't have to worry about disappearing from Moldova any time soon.

I have found my Kryptonite...

...and it is Star Popcorn, specifically the oddly-titled "Cheese Bond" flavor.

I think there's like 24 grams of fat in a hundred gram serving. Which makes it 24% fat. It seems like that can't possibly be true, but would Moldovan ingredient labels lie to me?

I really need to stop eating it, but I can't. One handful is just never enough.

Baked Beans

I was recently rather annoyed by the fact that I don't have anywhere I can go to satisfy my taste for American food in Comrat. The Turkish students here have the Turkish Kitchen and Café Istanbul where they can go whenever they like to have food from their native land. Sadly, due to the lack of Americans here (there are 3 of us), there's no such spot for us Yanks. Then I thought, "I have a kitchen. I am American. My kitchen can be the American Kitchen!"

So when I woke up very late today (11:30), I decided to make a project of cooking some baked beans from my mother's delicious recipe (available upon request). Thankfully, Fourchette, the grocery store here, carries a variety of essential Heinz products such as Worcestershire sauce and barbeque sauce. Everything else is a pretty basic ingredient (assorted canned beans, peppers, ketchup, etc.). So I took a walk in the glorious spring weather down to Fourchette, ran into 3 students (which made me feel happy that I know people in Comrat), picked up all the ingredients, and got cooking.

Here's my BBQ sauce (note the Russian label) and my hot sauce. I am holding the scary, Looney Tunes-esque can opener that I had to fight with to get the cans open. It kind of scratched my hand in the process. I think my tetanus shot is up to date. I'm pretty sure.

Beans simmering on the stove.

Full-on stove shot. I'm very happy that the owners of the apartment left a whole bunch of pots and pans for my cooking enjoyment. You can also see my little fancy ($8) Italian coffee-maker thing on the left. I'm very pleased with it so far.

I can't report on the taste of the finished product yet, but my kitchen smells pretty delicious!

Since this Moldovan cooking experiment has been successful so far, I'm thinking of tackling homemade macaroni and cheese and homemade spaghetti sauce next weekend. I'm tired of being held hostage by the expensive Barilla pasta sauce at Green Hills (one of our other supermarkets)! Four dollars for a jar of bolognese sauce that feeds no more than two people is absurd! I'm gonna cook up a big mess of sauce and then freeze it. Mmm mmm good!

New Apartment Pictures

I just moved into a nice new place on Ulitsa Gavrilova. It's a pretty classy place, fully furnished, and it finally has internet (as of today)!

My wardrobe. (Sorry, no lions or witches.)

It's so nice to have a bookshelf. All my multi-lingual books look pretty. But it reminds me that I haven't read that many books since I've been here. However, I am currently three pages into Tolstoy's Childhood.

My room. The bed's on the left and the desk is on the right.

Just to prove that I really do live here. This is in my living room. Note my Gonzaga t-shirt, worn in honor of the first day of March Madness!

My living room. (Or should I say oturma odası? I recently learned this word in Turkish.) As you can see I have a nice rack for drying my clothes and some comfy chairs and couches. I'm sitting in one of the chairs as I write this.

This is my foyer, complete with coat rack and slippers.

This is my beloved washing machine. Thanks to it, my clothes smell good!

My bathroom. As you can see, the shower is pretty tiny, but it's functional.

Here's my stove and oven. It's gas, which is kinda scary but very fast. Plus, you get to light it with a match and that is cool.

Here is my kitchen. It's a pretty decent sized kitchen by Moldovan standards.

Here's my unfinished dining room. There are two unfinished rooms in the apartment, which is kinda weird, but pretty standard because loan rates are really high so people just build stuff when they have the money. On the left you can see my water heater. I have 24 hour water here, which is great. I'm very lucky. You can't see the regular heater because it is behind the table. Having a dining room is cool because I can have guests over for dinner! Although I have yet to do this, but I am planning on it soon. Everyone should come and visit me.

Ridiculous Fun with Hundred Dollar Bills

The other day my former landlady asked me to exchange the hundred dollar bill I had given her for rent money last week. Apparently, her bank rejected it because of a tiny tear (approximately an eighth of an inch) on the lower left corner. Other than that the bill was pristine.

I found this frankly hilarious and rather annoying at the same time. I went back to the bank where I exchanged the money and the clerk happily exchanged the bill for another one.
I went and gave the new bill to my landlady. She told me that the people at the exchange place were trying to cheat me. I tried to explain to her that I used to work at a bank and we accepted money in basically any condition.

“But this is a lot of money!” she said to me.

I didn’t have the heart to explain that I easily went through $25,000 in cash—the majority of it in hundreds—on a payday Friday at Marisol Federal Credit Union.

Life Goals (Or, How I Went to Moldova and Learned to Sing Like Elliot Smith)

I have always identified strongly with Rob, the record store owner played by John Cusak in High Fidelity. Rob spends a great deal of time obsessing about popular music (like me) and kicking out thieving hoodlums from his record store (uh...not like me). By accident he realizes that two of those hoodlums are actually talented musicians and ends up producing their record. His girlfriend Laura tells him that he’s come full circle by actually becoming a part of the music-making process instead of just being a music consumer.

Those of you who follow Facebook probably saw the video of me and two students from the university singing “Hear You Me” for a school concert. I hadn’t sung in front of people in nine years (since I played Madam Mysteria in the ninth grade play, to be exact), but my church choir training at St. Bridget’s all came back to me with some help. It was really cool to actually make music again.

The guys from the band invited me to sing with them anytime I wanted and I was more than happy to take them up on the offer. Tragically, I haven’t been able to track down a cello for rent in Comrat, so I’ve been sticking with singing, although guitar lessons have been promised soon.

We have no gigs yet—there’s only three of us so we can’t exactly do full sets now—but we are getting a repertoire together. Thus far we have worked on:

“Viva la Vida” — Coldplay

“Say Yes” — Elliot Smith

“Lovers in Japan” — Coldplay

“Wonderwall” — Oasis

“Miss Misery” — Elliot Smith

“Twilight” — Elliot Smith

“The Middle” — Jimmy Eat World

“Cemeteries of London” — Coldplay

“Waltz #2” — Elliot Smith

We’ve tried to add some Regina Spektor songs, but they’re really hard to sing! Her voice is just too intense for my limited powers. We’ve been leaning pretty heavily on the Elliot Smith. When I was playing classical music, I always loved pieces a lot more once I’d played them. I’ve discovered that the same thing is true for Elliot Smith’s music. His songs are even more fantastic when you’ve learned them inside and out. (I know it’s sacrilege, but I have to admit that I wasn’t a huge fan of Either/Or until I started singing songs from it.) His songs aren’t that hard to sing and they grow on you tremendously. His voice is in a totally different register than mine so I end up sounding pretty manly on “Say Yes,” but I’m hoping that the more I sing it, the less weird the low notes will sound.

I’ve also discovered the amazing power of YouTube for listening to new stuff by artists you like. I found a sweet video of Elliot Smith performing in the Stinkweeds on Apache (RIP) in Tempe from 1996. It made me extremely nostalgic for Tempe. Oh, to have an Eastside Records in Comrat! Or a Hoodlums! Or a Milano’s Music! I could go on forever. We don’t realize how good we have it music-wise in America.

I can also recommend Sad Kermit singing “Needle in the Hay” in a bizarre homage to Wes Anderson. It’s definitely worth a watch to hear a Muppet singing about drug abuse.

My recent switch from a music consumer to a music maker has inspired me to add another life goal to my list. So far we have:

1. Visit every former Soviet country. (5 down, 10 to go!)
2. Read War and Peace in Russian. (1 volume down, 3 to go!)
3. Learn to play and sing the entire Weakerthans discography. (0 down, at least 50 to go!)

I need more life goals!

Pre-Kiev Post

On the eve of my departure for Kiev, I realized that it’s been a pathetic 23 days since my last post. I figured I ought to remedy that before heading into Ukraine.

There are three things that generally inhibit me from posting:

1. A wish to avoid talking about people here on the Internet
2. A desire to avoid being constantly whiny about certain things
3. Work

All three factors have colluded in the past few weeks.

The last three weeks have been busy and quite fun. I no longer spend all evenings holed up in my room like an Internet junkie! I have engaged in many semi-scandalous activities such as drinking coffee illicitly and dancing at the disco. The last two weeks were the start of classes, and I had 11 pairs per week to prep for, which is no joke. At any rate, this semester I have a much lighter courseload than last year, thank God. Here’s what I’m teaching:

Development of Conversational Speech

Linguistic Analysis of Artistic Texts

History of English-Speaking Peoples

You gotta love the convoluted course titles! The conversation class is the most fun because I get to teach my students extremely practical things and just talk with them. Today I showed them a bunch of videos of people with Valley girl accents. Then I pretended to be a waitress at a restaurant. Everyone wanted strawberry shortcake. I forgot Alyona’s Coke...sorry, Alyona! For those who are interested this website has pretty awesome, realistic colloquial English lesson materials.

The main frustrations have been getting back into the post-Soviet work culture. Enough said. I am leaving for a training in Kiev with my fellow Moldovan, Georgian, Armenian, and Azerbaijani ETA’s tomorrow, which I hope will recharge my tolerance for bureaucracy and give me a plethora of lesson planning ideas. I’m excited in the extreme because the Regional English Language Officer will be conducting the training and he is extraordinarily cool.

To change the subject abruptly, I have found myself getting weirdly obsessed with the Hold Steady and Bruce Springsteen. In particular, the song “Atlantic City.” I went on a fairly long tangent about popular perceptions of New Jersey in my literature class today. It was pretty uncalled for. I’m already getting as nuts as the professors I knew in the States.

I think this has to do with the fact that both the Hold Steady and the Boss are what Russian speakers would call спесифический. That is to say, they reflect the character of a certain place (Minneapolis and Jersey, respectively). I mean, you probably couldn’t even translate Hold Steady lyrics because they just wouldn’t make sense outside of an American context. (Although the chorus of “Party Pit”--“I’m going to walk around and drink some more”--is pretty much the most Russian thing I’ve ever heard.)

They are both essentially trying to tell the stories of people who live in a certain time and place without a whole lot of judgment, which is pretty unusual in popular music. Craig Finn, lead singer of the Hold Steady, writes about people like a college girl who gets mixed up with a townie murder and a teenage boy who gets kicked out of his own prom for being high. Bruce tells us about a man moving to Atlantic City to become a contract killer--and trying to convince his girlfriend to come with. It makes for some pretty good listening.

The Hold Steady also adds an interesting element of religion, alternating between blasphemy and piety. Craig Finn says, “I feel Jesus in the clumsiness of young and awkward lovers / I feel Judas in the long odd of the rackets on the corner.” Nevertheless, he seems pretty pleased that a past girlfriend was “a really good kisser and wasn’t all that strict of a Christian.”

I’m not sure if I’m obsessed because of nostalgia or the good music, but I can say that buying Boys and Girls in America at Hoodlums while I was on break was probably the best $5.99 I’ve spent in quite a while.

With that, I’m going to pack. Here I come, Kievan Rus!

Anna Karenina vs. The Museum of Innocence: Tolstoy/Pamuk Mash-up

While home on vacation, I was watching “Charlie Rose,” which is always a good idea. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that the guest was Orhan Pamuk, the 2006 Nobel Laureate from Turkey, was talking about his new book, The Museum of Innocence. I started reading Pamuk’s books in 2007 when I was traveling in Turkey. I have to say that I don’t actually think his novels are all that good--after I finished both Snow and My Name is Red, I had the feeling that I had read a long, strange book about basically nothing. I’m a pretty big fan of his memoir Istanbul: Memories of the City, however, and through that book have come to appreciate his writing style, which is sentimental and self-aware of being sentimental at the same time. Istanbul is all about Pamuk finding himself through wandering through the old neighborhoods of Istanbul. After reading it, I often fancied myself to be Tempe’s Orhan Pamuk while riding my bike through Tempe’s more dilapidated neighborhoods!

In the interview, Charlie Rose asked Pamuk what he thought was the greatest novel of all time, and Pamuk answered “Anna Karenina” without any hesitation. This interested me, since people usually pick War and Peace for the greatest novel of all time if they are into Tolstoy. To explain his love of Tolstoy, Pamuk retold an anecdote about Nabokov, who once explained Tolstoy’s writing style by simply opening a window in a dark classroom. His point: Tolstoy has a way of lighting up the entire room for you in every scene. He also talked about his new novel The Museum of Innocence, which I fortuitously received for Christmas. I just finished it a few days ago and was struck by the similarities to Anna Karenina. Both Anna Karenina and The Museum of Innocence are explorations of unhappy people in unhappy relationships and how they got that way.

So, I decided to try my hand at a little literary analysis. I haven’t read Anna Karenina in about three years, but I think I can pull it off. You can take the girl out of AP English, but you can’t take the AP English out of the girl!

Both The Museum of Innocence and Anna Karenina are essentially about women who rebel against restrictive social codes in 1860s Russia and 1970s Turkey, respectively. Anna, a married woman, has an affair with Vronsky, and Füsun, the heroine of The Museum of Innocence, has premarital sex with her distant relative Kemal (the narrator). These violations eventually earn them the scorn of society and a great deal of unhappiness. At the end, both choose death by machine: Anna throws herself under a train and Füsun drives a car into a tree. Their deaths symbolize the fact that their decision to violate sexual mores was essentially choosing to throw themselves into the gears of an unfeeling social machine. The endings of these novels are both tragic and arguably misogynist. Are the authors lamenting the restrictive social codes that destroy Anna and Füsun, or are they “punishing” these heroines for their transgressions? Are they saying that women who break sexual codes destroy their potential happiness? The gendered element of these stories is what makes them so compelling.

The settings are also quite interesting. Both Pamuk and Tolstoy see themselves as chroniclers of a particular socio-historical moment. Tolstoy captures the time of Tsar Alexander II, the “Tsar-Liberator,” which was an era of modernization in Russia. The serfs had been freed, but society still was remained traditional in many ways. You had to get permission from the tsar to get a divorce! Pamuk sets his story in 1970s Istanbul, during a time of terrorism and political upheaval in Turkey. Pamuk lovingly records the details of the historical moment down the brands of soda and the movie posters. In fact, the preservation and reification of these quotidian details is one of the main themes of The Museum of Innocence.

Both authors record the glittery and cruel workings of an élite, Westernized social class that is alienated from the main mass of society. Tolstoy’s aristocrats may at least speak Russian (unlike their forebears in War and Peace, who mainly speak French), but they can’t relate to the peasant class. When Levin tries to show his belief in equality by working with the ex-serfs on his estate, he knows he is making a fool of himself in front of them and his social peers. Try as he might, an aristocrat isn’t the same as a muzhik and they both know it. Likewise, the rich Istanbul élite described in Pamuk’s novel are educated abroad and have partially absorbed Western values. This only seems to make them more frustrated as they attempt to live Western sexual mores in a society that remains traditional. Pamuk constantly contrasts the Western, sometimes hedonistic values of Kemal and the conservative, religious values of his driver Çetin. At the same time, neither of these two aristocracies has succeeded in fully digesting the European culture they mimic. They are still peripherally Western cultures with more than a whiff of the East about them. Not quite authentically Russian or Turkish, not quite Western, they are caught in an uncomfortable limbo.

Both of these books succeed because they present complex characters in complex societies. You can definitely feel Tolstoy’s influence in Pamuk’s writing: a strong sense of character and tragedy, a desire to tell a compelling story rather than moralize. Pamuk is definitely striving to deserve his Nobel laurels, trying to capture the obsessions and ennui of his own people for history. Overall, I would highly recommend both of these books to anyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of reading them. Both novels are stimulating, readable, and quite rewarding!

Well, how did I do? Any comments from the Russian literature fans/Orientalists/English teachers out there?

PS--Coincidentally, as I post this I am listening to "One for the Cutters" by the Hold Steady, which has the similar theme of a woman who violates social mores and class boundaries!

Analogy: The Hold Steady : Minneapolis :: Tolstoy : Russia?

The Internationals

I think there comes a point when every American studying/working/living abroad asks themselves this question:

“Did I come this far just to hang out with Americans?”

Most people who go to foreign countries imagine themselves bonding with the locals and experiencing their lives (or at least doing shots with them). I know that when I first left for Armenia, that’s what I thought I’d be doing. And of course, that did actually come true in some regard, mostly through my homestay. (Although I didn’t really think that I’d be doing shots with my fifty-seven-year-old host mom and her brother...but that was a good evening.) We were also incredibly lucky to be introduced to Gevork, a great friend and our unofficial guide to everything Armenian.

Still, I spent the majority of my time with fellow Americans Steven and Patrick, bumming around the Yerevan and speaking English all day long. This ended up being extremely fun and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything...but it wasn’t what I expected to be doing when I left.

In Russia, we American students were extremely lucky to meet some very awesome, very культурные (cultured) people our age, and so I actually spent a pretty decent amount of time hanging out with Russian people in Russia! What a phenomenon! It was great, and I left with a really positive impression of Russians my age, who in my experience were very open and outgoing (and patient with our Russian).

Here in Moldova, I thank constantly thank God for the Peace Corps, because without them we Fulbrighters would be so bored. Just having a few extra Americans in town really makes a difference. It’s nice to be able to relax with some fellow countrymen. There’s times when you just need to talk with an American, dammit. (Like when your university changes the dates of three of your finals without telling you...) Plus, they have the hook-up with all sorts of nice freebies: space heaters, American medicine, coats, textbooks, etc. Plus, they actually get decent language and teacher training, so they’re a great help when you are confused/out of ideas/need to find a language tutor. The only danger is that Peace Corps tells them about every possible safety and health hazard, so talking to them has the tendency to make you extremely paranoid.

There’s also the interesting phenomenon of the international community that springs up whenever a few foreigners meet in a strange land. You’re all kind of bored, trying to meet people, and having difficulties with the culture and the language. So, of course, you hang out. In Armenia, I was friends with people from Israel, Russia, Poland, and Iran. (Armenia: the only place in the world where Iranians, Israelis, Americans are allies.)

I notice pretty much the same phenomenon here. One of my students asked me the other day, “Did you think when you came to Moldova you would be spending so much time with Turkish people?” The answer: no, but I probably should have guessed. It’s been pretty fun meeting the other internationals in Moldova. We Americans teamed up with the European volunteers (from Spain, Lithuania, France, and Germany) to party and go to the disco last night, and I have to say it was pretty awesome.

At any rate, my own international experiences have made me skeptical of those typical travel narratives where people go to a foreign country, integrate with the locals, and spend the rest of their time their living natively ever after. In my experience, it usually doesn’t work out like that. But, that’s not always a bad thing. Hanging out with other foreigners helps you to process the massive task of fitting in to another culture, and can even teach you about a new one (see: my Turkish language lessons). At the very least, it definitely keeps you sane, even if it doesn’t fit in with the romantic conception of living abroad.

The Little Things

After my epic journey from Phoenix to Jacksonville to Washington, D.C. to Zurich to Bucharest to Chisinau to Comrat, I decided to post about the little things I missed about America while I was in Moldova.

Shower curtains

Non-German beer varieties

Turning on the heat when it gets the least bit cold

Purple mountains

Seeing my own feet (I wear wool socks 24/7 in Comrat)

Not wearing long underwear or anything wool

Being able to walk into a store and look at clothes without a clerk asking you what’s taking so long

Large bookstores

Hoodlum’s (I really broke the bank on new CDs while I was home)

Spin magazine (I just consumed their issue on Pearl Jam...amazing)

Knowing where you can purchase something

Using idioms without worrying if people will understand them

Swearing

My grandma’s potica (delicious raisin and nut pastry)

Riding in cars

Blowdrying my hair (I couldn’t find a hairdryer for the longest time in Comrat)

Paying for things with a debit card

Wearing funky t-shirts

Coffee-maker coffee

Chicken wings

Watching American sports on TV (We’re hoping that March Madness will get some coverage on cable.)

Access to my DVD collection

Chisinau!

Yesterday was quite the adventure. I gave my last December final as quickly as possible, calculated grades at the speed of light, and then hightailed out of the university in order to catch a minibus to Chisinau. It had been snowing for four straight days, so I decided time was of the essence. There was no way I was going to let myself get snowed in and miss my flight.

The bus station was abuzz with people trying to figure out when buses were going to leave, as all the routes were on limited schedules. Me and my big red suitcase got rejected from one minibus, only to be accepted on board about five minutes later as they realized they needed more passengers. I like to think my dour, helpless expression helped to get me on the bus. Our two-hour ride over the snowy roads to Chisinau was surprisingly uneventful. The drivers here know how to manage without snow tires, apparently. On the way, I spent about 45 minutes talking with a friendly Bulgarian lady from Taraclia. She told me many entertaining stories, like how there were so many people at her son's wedding that they had to put chairs and tables on the stage of the House of Culture they were holding it in. Moldova is such a friendly country!

I lugged my suitcase (weighed down by approximately 6 liters of wine from my host family) on to another minibus from the South Bus Station into the center of Chisinau, where Amy, my lovely hostess for this weekend, found me and took me to her apartment. Her nice "Euro-remont" (European-remodelled) apartment is a good waystation between Comrat and America. We made a delicious meat spaghetti sauce with ingredients from the western-style grocery store downstairs from her apartment. Robin, a Peace Corps Volunteer who lives in the same building, joined us for dinner. We shared homestay horror stories; it was highly entertaining.

Today I went on a shopping extravaganza (read: I spent $50). It was nice and sunny, which made the snow glisten quite prettily. I bought a hairdryer (apparently the word diffuser is the same in Russian—score!), some Russian cartoons on DVD, more DDT music, and The Reader in Russian. I'm quite looking forward to reading The Reader on the plane. It was written in German originally, so I figure reading it in Russian is no more weird than reading it in English.

I also confirmed with the staff at an Air Moldova office that my flight to Frankfurt is indeed scheduled to leave tomorrow. This is good. About 12 hours until I have to leave for the airport. Yay!

White Christmas

I woke up this morning around six, wondering why it was so cold. When I actually got up at nine, I saw that Comrat had turned into a snowy winter wonderland! I, of course, cranked up the Christmas music (Stephen Colbert's "Another Christmas Song," of course) and enjoyed a relaxing morning.

Everyone at work was excited about the snow, which was fun! I, however, tend to have problems with falling down... My Arizona upbringing did not prepare me for this.

It's finals month here (yes, they have a finals month), which means lots of work for us teachers and lots of stress for the students. I have to give two finals tomorrow for my Culture and Civilization class, which I'm not exactly looking forward to. Unfortunately, test time means cheating time! I have a lot of issues with the pervasive post-Soviet culture of copying, which kind of makes writing tests pointless. Even when I do two different versions, people magically have all the same answers! You can map seating arrangements by looking at who has the same mistakes. The tiny classrooms definitely exacerbate this...as well as the fact that everyone seems to wink at it! Ah, well.

I'm looking forward to heading home on December 20th. It'll give me a good chance to recharge my educational batteries, stock up on books, eat Mexican food, and drink good beer. Most of all, I can't wait to see my Arizona people!

Another sign that I might be going crazy...

We watched a fairly lame educational dramatization of Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart" in my literary text analysis class today. I felt that the class was rather bored, which gave me an impetus to get theatrical. So, we were reviewing the plot of the story, and at the climactic moment, I exclaimed, fists raised to the sky,

"It was the beating of his hideous heart!"

I had not realized until this year how entertaining it is to be eccentric in front of a captive audience.

On tap for tomorrow: an analysis of a Tim O'Brien short story and a song by Ani DiFranco. It's nice to be the professor. I can make them read whatever I want!

In the Trenches

I've been having a pretty crazy week as the result of insane amounts of class, but I thought I'd bullet point some highlights while I have a spare moment:

• Amazing breakfast on Monday at Melek's house (my Turkish teacher). Also, a fun Turkish lesson.
• Trying to explain the agony of ASU's loss of the Territorial Cup to a student.
• Teaching students about the concept of "hair of the dog."
• Great lesson on Shakespeare's Sonnet #130 on Monday.
• Listening to Jimmy Eat World's "Work" on the way to work.
• Somehow, one of my students knew about the Arizona Wildcats when I said I was from Arizona. This is actually sort of a lowlight (still sensitive after our crushing defeat...) but I thought it merited a mention.
• Very awesome lecture from Thomas Santos, the Regional English Language Officer. What a pro. All the teachers loved him and he returned our love.
• Getting a flatscreen TV, DVD player, and home theater system for the American Center! Thanks, U.S. Embassy! (Lowlight: The overall floundering about by the university administration on actually installing the generous gift.)
• Invitation to smoke hookah next week. Калянь!
• My oh-so-entertaining colleagues making fun of me and my quest for дополнительные пары (extra lessons so I can meet the requirements for the semester).
• My student's not-so-smooth attempt to change the subject of the conversation to Lost when we were discussing Tom Sawyer.
• Talking to Debbie on her birthday!
• Watching Meet the Parents in class today (on VHS!) instead of discussing "The Gift of the Magi." Hey, it was totally justified! This semester has been hell for everyone, including students. O. Henry can wait.
• My overall unsuccessful quest to stop speaking "foreigner English" before I get back to America. (I am slowly losing my ability to consistently use correct prepositions.)
• Purchasing Christmas garland today in order to begin the decoration of the American Center.

Overall, it has been a really hectic week, but I'm starting to feel like this might actually end at some point! It sucks because the day of reckoning (aka final exams) are coming up and students (not to mention professors) are starting to freak out. I just keep trying to remind myself that I only have 6 days left (7 if you count the fact that I'm working on Saturday, but I don't because that's too depressing to even think about).

Countdown to America: 17 days!

A Bag of Fish

Today didn’t start well, as I woke up 45 minutes earlier than my alarm and couldn’t get back to sleep. I kept thinking about all the work (particularly paperwork) that has to get done in the next few weeks. I’m really worried that the faculty head is going to catch all the “mistakes” I have made with my course documents and rake me over the coals. I’m not sure how bad it will be, considering that I do have a few cards in my hands. Quite a few Fulbright program rules have been disregarded (intentionally or unintentionally, I don’t know) by my university, so I always have that to fire back at them if I am confronted. Eh. I suppose it’s not a big deal, but it’s still stressing me out.

The thing that is frustrating is that at the end of the day, my performance won’t be judged by anything I do in the classroom, but how well I prepare my documents. Disheartening. (My mother assures me that this is the reality of teaching everywhere.)

Once my alarm actually went off, I got ready to go to the university for a marathon class session. Because of all the class cancellations and the fact that my students left the university for a month and a half to student-teach, I will be teaching basically double my normal class schedule until school ends in two weeks. So, we’re cramming in classes on Saturdays. I taught my Culture and Civilization group from 9:30 to 3:00 today. I was having flashbacks of AP European History Saturday test prep sessions!

I thought this was going to be awful, but it ended up being okay. Nobody really wants to work on Saturdays, so we had a twenty-minute breakfast break right in the middle of class. I was taken out of class by the department head in a rather official fashion, only to find out that the reason she wanted me to go to the faculty lounge was to drink tea and eat some leftovers from yesterday’s party.

Today my students were surprisingly active (and not too whiny) considering they were sacrificing their weekend to sit in class for nearly six hours! That is the one thing that makes all the ridiculous paperwork worthwhile: my students are entertaining. It’s fun to watch how all the girls interact (almost all of my local students are girls) and to see all of their personality quirks. They’re all very nice girls and it’s energizing to have such interesting students.

We did a crash course in American history from the Civil War to the present. It turned out pretty well, but it’s always hard to remember that people here don’t really learn much about our history, so you really have to start from nothing. I think the biggest hit was when I showed a clip from Glory. Too bad I had no reasonable excuse to watch the whole movie...I could have used a nap.

A bright part of my day was giving one of my students a burned copy of The College Dropout. Just doing my part to spread Kanye to Gagauzia.

As I was about to walk out of the room, I noticed a bag sitting on one of the desks. I decided that I might as well check it out in case it was something important. Imagine my surprise when I saw a large number of fish staring up at me with their dead eyes!

I called down the hall to the last one of my students who luckily hadn’t left yet. I showed her the bag of fish and she made some phone calls and scared up the owner of the fish.

Thank God I decided to look in that bag--the stench on Monday would have made a cat drop dead.

I came home and crashed. I’m currently reading A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle, which is way weirder than I remembered.

I had a strange moment while watching a Russian soap opera tonight. The main character was driving around in a fancy car, and I thought, “How wonderful it would be to own a car!”

Then I realized I do own a car. That was kind of weird.

I’m just trying to get through these next two weeks without going nuts. The problem is that after teaching for nearly 6 hours, I feel like I’ve had a frontal lobotomy. Unfortunately, there’s still many a lesson plan to write and many a test question to think up! At least I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

We are thankful for...

After my sorry performance at Halloween (party cancelled thanks to swine flu), I decided to think of something interesting to do for Thanksgiving. I put up some DIY decorations in the American Center for starters. I realized there was no way to really do a party considering food logistics, so I decided to go to the good old standby: What are you thankful for?

I bought poster board for each class in festive fall colors and at the beginning of my classes I asked everyone to think of what they were thankful for. (This is more challenging to explain than it seems, because Russian really doesn’t have an equivalent expression. You can be thankful to someone, but not really for something.) I wrote “We are thankful for...” in big letters and then I passed around the poster and invited people to write on it. Some of the responses:

“My family”

“My friends”

“My sister twin”

“My baby” (yep, some of my students are moms)

“Having a true American teacher to teach us” (I got a few of this one. I think they are suck-ups, but I secretly enjoy it!)

“The cosmetics of Avon”

“My God”

“Being healthy”

“Bob Marley” (personal favorite)

“My parents”

“My love” (a popular choice with the female students)

“My family and my friends and my boyfriend”

“Leaving Adem forever” (Adem is one of the students in the class...the students kept joking that they would be happy never to see each other again after they graduate this year. This was the class that refused to take anything seriously. They cracked me up.)

“My life”

“My teachers”

“Being born in Turkiye” (A typical sentiment from the Turkish students! I guess the spirit of Kemal Ataturk will live on in my Thanksgiving posters.)

“Form monitor” (I have no idea what the students were trying to write, but this is the translation from the Oxford Russian-English dictionary. I think it’s like a homeroom teacher.)

“Having interesting students to teach” (That was mine!)

There was also one about a Turkish soccer victory that everyone seemed to be very excited about. I was confused, but then figured it had to be some kind of ASU-UA rivalry, the Territorial Cup of Turkey, if you will.

I labelled each one according to group (class groups have a very strong identity here because they have every single class together) and hung the posters up in the back of the classroom. It took a while because I had to scrounge for basic supplies, as usual. Finally, I just went out and bought packing tape. They look pretty cool (pictures will be forthcoming), and I hope having them hanging will encourage students to read them. I liked the project very much because it practiced particular English structures while still capturing the basic idea of the holiday. I also liked the interactive aspect of students reading what other groups wrote. Plus, I just like the idea of hanging up something the students have actually made instead of another doofy America poster.

So I didn’t get any turkey this Thanksgiving (I had meat dumplings and sour cream), but I did get to talk to all the main family members on Skype and commiserated with Derek about being in a foreign country for Thanksgiving. It wasn’t as awesome as seeing friends and family again, but I am thankful for being here nonetheless.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

A Recommendation to the ASU Russian Department

I would like to propose the introduction of a special topics class for the ASU Russian major:

RUS 394: Writing Useless Official Documents

It seems that if you travel to a former Soviet country, the only writing you will ever be expected to do is in the form of pointless “declarations” to various and sundry officials. Regardless of the fact that such declarations signify precisely null, you will be expected to compose them perfectly. Despite the fact that these documents will simply collect dust in a drawer, grammar mistakes are not allowed!

If you ask for assistance, you have a fifty-fifty chance of receiving it. If you actually receive help, there is a 33% chance of it being given snootily, as if anyone with a third grade education should be able to write useless official declarations.

Thus, I suggest a special topics class in the Russian department to solve this problem for young Russian majors venturing into the wild world of post-Soviet bureaucracy.

An Unfortunate Fact

At my university, every class has a register in which teachers record attendance for every single class. I know, very elementary school.

I noticed a few weeks ago that at the beginning of the register is a list with every student's name as well as their ethnic background. Perhaps I should find this upsetting, but mostly I think it is hilarious. "Well, I was going to give you a good grade, but according to the register, you are Bulgarian. Automatic 2 point deduction."

I wonder why this list exists in the first place. I can see why it might be somewhat useful for the university to know the ethnic composition of the school as a whole, but why do I as a professor need to have every student's ethnic background at my fingertips? Hmm.

Ah, Moldova, sometimes I think you have a long way to go.

Eventful Day!

Today I was unexpectedly pulled into an emotional grammar tug-of-war!

I was sitting in the department, wasting time, and in comes one of my colleagues crying. She lets off a string of Russian, of which I understood the words “you,” “ask,” and “may I take a book.” I freaked out for about 5 seconds because I thought she was mad at me for taking one of her books or something and I couldn’t figure out why she was so upset. Once she repeated herself, I realized that she was trying to ask me if she was correct in saying that there is a grammatical difference between “may” and “can.” My colleague marked the sentence the sentence “Can I take the book?” wrong on a student’s test and the student started going off on her in class, saying that she didn’t know English.

I told her that it’s okay in conversational speech, but in terms of grammar it is incorrect to use “can” instead of “may.” We all do it, but technically it’s not right. After she calmed down, I offered to go with her to the class and explain the rule to the student. It seemed like she needed to be backed up by a native speaker because this student wouldn’t let it die. So, we marched together into a class of 30 students staring at us, which was pretty intimidating. I explained to the very irritated girl that gramatically “can” indicates ability to do something, whereas “may” indicates a request for permission. (Somewhat ridiculously, I demonstrated this by running in place to show that physically I “can” run, but that’s not the same as saying that I “may” run.) Well, as we native speakers tend to have the last word on this issue, the girl pretty much had to accept defeat after that and her grade on the test stayed the same.

The whole exchange was pretty interesting to me, although of course rather upsetting. Generally, I think it’s a little silly to teach students to always say “may,” but on a grammar test, I think you have to mark it wrong. There is a particular mistake in Armenian that people always make in speech (using the subjunctive after “to want” instead of the infinitive), but I would never have cursed out my dear Armenian teacher Siranoush for marking that wrong on a test. After all, it is wrong, even if everyone says it. You can use bad grammar all you want in speech, but on a grammar test you have to follow the rules. That’s the point of a grammar test. Following annoying rules.

Let’s see, in other news, one of the Moldovan IREX fellows who studied in the U.S. gave us a lecture on assessment. It was interesting, because she was all about multiple choice, matching, and true/false questions instead of essays. At first I was turned off by this, but I saw her logic after a while. First of all, if you are testing a student on their knowledge of a particular subject in English, it does make more sense to use multiple choice tests. Students who don’t write particularly well in English may still know the material after all, and it’s unfair to test them constantly on their writing skills if the test is ostensibly on another topic (for example, psychology).

What I found most interesting was the defensive posture that teachers need to take when writing tests. The IREX fellow kept talking about having questions that you can “prove” are correct. She constantly stressed objective answers over subjective answers. Teachers obviously must not get much support from administration on their grading if CYA is one of the main goals in test-writing.

Finally, I have to say that navigating social rules is more confusing than it seems at first! One of my students told me yesterday that I am in danger of causing scandal by socializing with male students! Apparently, socializing means spending any time outside of class with them whatsoever. I mean, really. On the one hand, I find this quite amusing because I hardly ever do anything scandalous ever. On the other hand, I’m not exactly thrilled to have moved to Junior High Land.

The problem is having various definitions of what it means to “do my job.” As Fulbrighters, we are asked to go out of our way to help people learn English outside of class and generally be nice and helpful. So, it seems silly to only help out other ladies. (“I’d like to help you on the TOEFL, but unfortunately you happen to be of the opposite gender. Better luck next time.”) BUT, if I am causing scandal, that could probably hurt my capacity to do my job. Obviously, it is bad to lose people’s respect. Hrm.

To complicate things, it seems that people have different definitions of what all of these social rules mean. And some people entirely ignore the rules. And, by the way, there are three different ethnic groups here with (presumably) different rules. I think by the end of this whole affair in Moldova I will have an unofficial minor in Moldovan/Gagauzian/Turkish Anthropology.

As you can see, it was a very eventful day. I guess I’m going out to the disco tonight with the other teachers. Today is Students’ Day, and they invited us, I guess. It should be fun getting down with colleagues two or three times my age.