Three Men and Some Babies
Dear Readers,
A full week has passed since my last update. I have lots to share with you all. First, some housekeeping, I have changed the settings on my blog to now allow comments. Please keep your comments coming, it is wonderful to get feedback from friends and strangers alike. Also, for friends, please download Skype if possible. It is a wonderful tool and you cannot beat the price, free.
Now, back to Moscow. OK, the first of the three men is a dear sweet person who helped me out on the metro this week. The metro turnstile ate my card (there were still 3 rides left). So I am at the turnstile -- 5:30 pm, height of rush hour, screaming for the lady (devuyshka) to come and help me. Now I do not know what the turnstiles are called in Russian, further I am not sure if they are male or female ( it matters) and I am not sure which aspect of the verb "to take" to use. So my options are
1. He took my card (1 time and done)
2. She took my card (1 time and done)
3. It took my card (1 time and done)
4. He took my card (in the process of)
5. She took my card (in the process of)
6. It took my card (in the process of)
7. Just keep screaming devuyshka, devuyshka, and hope she decides to stop ignoring me.
Enter the hero. A mop-topped, dark-haired man (who looked suspiciously like Screech from Saved by the Bell) starts giving me instructions in -- God Bless him -- English. He offers me his metro card to make it through the gates. I refuse because I want/need my own card back, complete with the 3 rides still left. This guy, did I mention it was rush hour, waits patiently until I come to my senses and realize that devuyshka is sticking firmly to her policy of ignoring the screaming black woman at turnstile 6 -- yeah, I counted them. So I take his card, resist the urge to kiss him, thank him profusely and accompany him to the escalator. During the ride down, he tells he he is an actor here in the city, that he has relatives in Chicago and that he has been to New York a few times for work, but there are far fewer opportunities to work in the US theater than in Russia. I thank the young man again because in addition to getting me on the metro -- my destination is forgotten already -- he provided another aspect of the Muscovites. He was kind to a stranger for no other reason than kindness itself. Rare, sweet, necessary and appreciated.
Sidebar for a funny story about a person that cannot rise to the designation of man. OK on another day as I was walking back from the metro, I came up on a person of the male persuasion walking just in front of me. I am to his left and behind him maybe 1 full step, maybe less. So we are walking and this guy just lets one loose, right in my walking path. He doesn't look back, doesn't acknowledge the event or me. Just I am thinking, maybe he just zipped his jacket really fast, causing a noise that resembles flatulence, he does it again. At this point, I wise up and cross the street.
Second man. Last Friday, a few of the fellows eat dinner at the restaurant literally across the street from my apartment. The place is the absolute best. The food (and the cook) are wonderful, the prices are very reasonable and the ambience, well that is the best part of the story. The place is small, maybe 8-10 tables, with very nice white tableclothes and good silverware. There is only one waiter to cover the entire dining room, but since there are never more than 3 tables occupied, it is not that big a deal. The waiter is superb, by any standards. He is attentive and smart and funny. The ambience of this restaurant is created and maintained by the flat screen TV mounted to the wall, the bartender (man #2) and his love for soccer. On this night, Argentina was playing Germany. My little dinner party eat and drank to the full volume blast of the game. It was like we came over to his house for dinner and the game. The staff was polite and accomodating, but the game clearly trumped all other considerations. When the bartender saw that we were half heartedly rooting for Germany, he challenged us to a bet, if Germany won, he would buy us a round, if Argentina won, we would by him a round. And so it was on, we stayed for a full hour longer until Germany finally triumphed. In that hour, we made a new friend (please don't ask me what his name is) and gained a new neighborhood hangout. I finally feel like I am a part of my new neighborhood. Now I have place to go where somebody knows if not my name, than at least my face. I am grateful to the bartender for initiating me into the neighborhood. I will be a frequent customer and hopefully a good friend.
Today, at noon, Roman (a fellow in the program) and I met at a cafe near Arbat street to study. Neither of us had had breakfast, so we ordered soft drinks, salads, entrees and desserts. The total bill was 1700 rubles or ($63). That is a little steep for just two folks, no alcohol. I took at closer look at the bill and realized that one item had been charged at 590 rubles ($22) -- a glass of fresh squeezed pineapple juice (large) Roman ordered. He was sure it was just a typo and called the waitress over to make the correction. She shook her head and said that the charge was correct as it stood. Roman then asked for the menu to check the price, the waitress brought back a little insert that said the juice cost 295 rubles ($11), but told us that was the price for the small and, in fact, the large glass of juice cost $22. BTW, before the bill came, Roman mentioned that the juice was quite tasty and advised that I get one. :-) Long story short, the manager came and reduced the charget from 590 to 295 rubles. But, let this story be a lesson and a warning. If anyone is wondering why Moscow is the most expensive city in the world, here is an excellent illustration of your answer. I have never even paid $22 for a glass of wine. It was a very surreal experience.
Finally, the babies. Some of my friends are expecting babies (Rachelle, 7/4), (Annie 9/11) and just wanted to give them a shout out. I am definitely sad that I will miss their births, but I promise to be in-country for their first birthday party and Christmas.
OK, I must do some homework now. I look forward to your comments and Skype calls.
A full week has passed since my last update. I have lots to share with you all. First, some housekeeping, I have changed the settings on my blog to now allow comments. Please keep your comments coming, it is wonderful to get feedback from friends and strangers alike. Also, for friends, please download Skype if possible. It is a wonderful tool and you cannot beat the price, free.
Now, back to Moscow. OK, the first of the three men is a dear sweet person who helped me out on the metro this week. The metro turnstile ate my card (there were still 3 rides left). So I am at the turnstile -- 5:30 pm, height of rush hour, screaming for the lady (devuyshka) to come and help me. Now I do not know what the turnstiles are called in Russian, further I am not sure if they are male or female ( it matters) and I am not sure which aspect of the verb "to take" to use. So my options are
1. He took my card (1 time and done)
2. She took my card (1 time and done)
3. It took my card (1 time and done)
4. He took my card (in the process of)
5. She took my card (in the process of)
6. It took my card (in the process of)
7. Just keep screaming devuyshka, devuyshka, and hope she decides to stop ignoring me.
Enter the hero. A mop-topped, dark-haired man (who looked suspiciously like Screech from Saved by the Bell) starts giving me instructions in -- God Bless him -- English. He offers me his metro card to make it through the gates. I refuse because I want/need my own card back, complete with the 3 rides still left. This guy, did I mention it was rush hour, waits patiently until I come to my senses and realize that devuyshka is sticking firmly to her policy of ignoring the screaming black woman at turnstile 6 -- yeah, I counted them. So I take his card, resist the urge to kiss him, thank him profusely and accompany him to the escalator. During the ride down, he tells he he is an actor here in the city, that he has relatives in Chicago and that he has been to New York a few times for work, but there are far fewer opportunities to work in the US theater than in Russia. I thank the young man again because in addition to getting me on the metro -- my destination is forgotten already -- he provided another aspect of the Muscovites. He was kind to a stranger for no other reason than kindness itself. Rare, sweet, necessary and appreciated.
Sidebar for a funny story about a person that cannot rise to the designation of man. OK on another day as I was walking back from the metro, I came up on a person of the male persuasion walking just in front of me. I am to his left and behind him maybe 1 full step, maybe less. So we are walking and this guy just lets one loose, right in my walking path. He doesn't look back, doesn't acknowledge the event or me. Just I am thinking, maybe he just zipped his jacket really fast, causing a noise that resembles flatulence, he does it again. At this point, I wise up and cross the street.
Second man. Last Friday, a few of the fellows eat dinner at the restaurant literally across the street from my apartment. The place is the absolute best. The food (and the cook) are wonderful, the prices are very reasonable and the ambience, well that is the best part of the story. The place is small, maybe 8-10 tables, with very nice white tableclothes and good silverware. There is only one waiter to cover the entire dining room, but since there are never more than 3 tables occupied, it is not that big a deal. The waiter is superb, by any standards. He is attentive and smart and funny. The ambience of this restaurant is created and maintained by the flat screen TV mounted to the wall, the bartender (man #2) and his love for soccer. On this night, Argentina was playing Germany. My little dinner party eat and drank to the full volume blast of the game. It was like we came over to his house for dinner and the game. The staff was polite and accomodating, but the game clearly trumped all other considerations. When the bartender saw that we were half heartedly rooting for Germany, he challenged us to a bet, if Germany won, he would buy us a round, if Argentina won, we would by him a round. And so it was on, we stayed for a full hour longer until Germany finally triumphed. In that hour, we made a new friend (please don't ask me what his name is) and gained a new neighborhood hangout. I finally feel like I am a part of my new neighborhood. Now I have place to go where somebody knows if not my name, than at least my face. I am grateful to the bartender for initiating me into the neighborhood. I will be a frequent customer and hopefully a good friend.
Today, at noon, Roman (a fellow in the program) and I met at a cafe near Arbat street to study. Neither of us had had breakfast, so we ordered soft drinks, salads, entrees and desserts. The total bill was 1700 rubles or ($63). That is a little steep for just two folks, no alcohol. I took at closer look at the bill and realized that one item had been charged at 590 rubles ($22) -- a glass of fresh squeezed pineapple juice (large) Roman ordered. He was sure it was just a typo and called the waitress over to make the correction. She shook her head and said that the charge was correct as it stood. Roman then asked for the menu to check the price, the waitress brought back a little insert that said the juice cost 295 rubles ($11), but told us that was the price for the small and, in fact, the large glass of juice cost $22. BTW, before the bill came, Roman mentioned that the juice was quite tasty and advised that I get one. :-) Long story short, the manager came and reduced the charget from 590 to 295 rubles. But, let this story be a lesson and a warning. If anyone is wondering why Moscow is the most expensive city in the world, here is an excellent illustration of your answer. I have never even paid $22 for a glass of wine. It was a very surreal experience.
Finally, the babies. Some of my friends are expecting babies (Rachelle, 7/4), (Annie 9/11) and just wanted to give them a shout out. I am definitely sad that I will miss their births, but I promise to be in-country for their first birthday party and Christmas.
OK, I must do some homework now. I look forward to your comments and Skype calls.
posted by S | 12:19 PM
2 Comments:
Hello from NJ. Sounds like all is well though the heat sounds a bit uncomfortable. Looking forward to continued posts.
Sheree, great stuff. I guess all that writing for Dr. Maloba’s classes paid off. I love the “Fart Simpson” story. You can’t make stuff like that up. I’m really enjoying your blog, so write often. Glad to hear you're settling in nicely, but looking forward to resuming our debates when you get back. One. - Ju
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