Spring has arrived in Vladimir (ironic, considering only two months ago Russians celebrated springs coming in one of the coldest experiences of my life). While I was away in Sochi, everything sprang to life- the trees, the grass, and even a few flowers. Though it still feels the same (mid 50s the past few days) the scenery has greatly improved, and often times that’s far more important anyway. It’s been amazing to see Russia transform in these past four months.
I don’t know what the man at orientation was talking about, when he said Russians come alive in the winter. Though I wouldn’t go as far to say that Russians actually smile now that it’s so beautiful outside, they do seem to have lost some of their rough edge. And at least they don’t frown as much anymore. I have realized, however, the most Russians are card-carrying fridge-a-phobics. Regardless of the fact that there is no longer (and I’m very excited to say this) snow on the ground, every single child I see under the age of five is still wearing a snowsuit. Most Russians still wear surprisingly heavy jackets, and occasionally hats as well. My family, in a typical Russian fashion, expects me to die of pneumonia at any second because I am not wearing proper clothing (and yes, of course, this includes Vlad, because who would want to miss out on a chance to call me stupid). An even better example would be my tutor, who sported a turtleneck sweater and pink leather jacket every day in Sochi, even when I was in shorts. She was so afraid of being cold on our boat cruise that she actually packed the blanket from the hotel bed in her giant purse and, naturally, used it whenever she went outside the main cabin. Russians reaffirm their quirkiness almost daily.
Russia celebrated Victory Day (marking the end of the war with Nazi Germany) this past Tuesday, and Vladimir was filled with balloons and flowers galore. I got to see some of the parade and celebration at a nearby square, and after scrounging for enough rubles on the ground, bought myself a good looking Russian flag to show my support (and blend in too). The rest of the day my family and I went to a nearby village and celebrated with their old neighbors. After some very strong coaxing by Mama Olga, I ate pretty much every kind of meat available- chicken, fish, and pork. Needless to say, it wasn’t the best meal I’ve had in Russia, but I appeased my tummy by gorging on dessert.
Russians are a very funny people, especially when they’re drunk. It’s hard to accurately describe a situation where you’re surrounded by six, rather drunk, Russians adults who are all screaming (and by screaming, I mean that normally they talk a new notches louder than your average American, but then in a group it is magnified about ten fold) at you to try this alcohol or try that dessert or come smoke (each and every one good Russians habits) or tell you they want to find you a Russian boyfriend (they clearly don’t know about my муз). All you can do is laugh. But then again, that’s often times the case when it comes to Russia. I guess that’s why I love it.