Кошмар.

If someone can find for me the Russian Bureaucracy Machine, or perhaps the Russian Bureaucracy Factory, or more likely the Russian Bureaucracy Hole, I will gladly go there, and give it all my money and credit cards, just to save some part of my sanity, and maybe a little chunk of time.

I awoke this morning to light streaming through my drab grey curtains. I awoke in fear, as it must have been at least 11 am. Nope, it’s just Russia. It was in fact 5:30 am and already the light was interfering with my sleep. White Nights, here I come....screaming... As I lay there contemplating what position to best return to sleep , it dawned on me: I’m about to get screwed all day and weekend, and not in a pleasant way. I’m reminded of Bam Margera in Jackass when he would say, “I’m Bam Margera, and I feel like kicking my dad’s ass all day.” I could see him standing at the end of my bed ready to pounce, I was a little turned on, but that's not for here. Even with this vision of getting my ass kicked all day, as I jumped out of bed to try to head off this fore-coming screwing, I had no idea what I was in for.

So let’s back up a bit. I’m going to the Ukraine. I wanted to take a train, I love trains. I haven’t done an overnight one in a while, and it’s high time. So I look up trains. This country is completely devoid of information. Especially in English. Even the mostly encompassing transport info webpage that exists in Russian is fairly new. One time I asked a train attendant where I could get a copy of the train routes, she shrugged and said maybe at a souvenir shop. Later I saw people with them, clearly supplied by the train system, but she seemed to have no idea of their existence. So I put some effort into finding a train to Ukraine. I realize in doing so that the one I want crosses Belarus. Sounds nice, a little trip through Minsk. Wrong. You must possess a visa. To CROSS the country. AT NIGHT. Cost? 100$. Also the US government has no relations with Belarus, whatever that means. On a grand scale, it means I can get fucked with and the US Government will really be of no help. So I decide on the longer route. I’m not sure why, but I convinced myself that this route did not go through Belarus. Whew! But on second thought, I decided I’d have a Russian friend check yesterday. She tells me she’s pretty certain this route does in fact go through the EXTAORDINARILY HIGH VISA ZONE. Well, fuck. I’ve already bought the ticket.

So this morning. First, I need to find a map that shows definitively that the route of my train will in fact cross Belarus. Also I need to eat. Also I need to try to make it to class. Worked through the logistics of all this and decided I would get off at a particular metro and go to a café I know has wireless. Of course I get there and my info was wrong, so to Macker’s it is, for a “Fresh Macmuffin”. Yep, my train does go through Belarus. Fuck. On to step two, Find the Belarussian Embassy. Well this came surprisingly easy, considering I’d already looked for info several times before. So off I go to catch the metro to the embassy, which surprisingly is located near my school! Things are looking up! Oh the traps we fall into in this country when tricked into positivity…

I get to the metro, which I had just used less than an hour ago. It’s closed. Are you freakin kidding me? They decided to do repairs from 715am-10am. Morning rush hour. I really think the government read Dilbert’s Guide to Management. So now I’m in a strange section of town, and have no idea how to get where I need to go. So I jump on the first Marshrutka I see that goes to a different metro. Take that metro to the one near school, and take a tram to the embassy. Conveniently the tram drops off right in front and the conductor didn’t even snarl when I asked for help! Blasted positivity trap…

Well I’m early, the embassy doesn’t open until 9. So I go on a search for money that I will surely need. Surprise surprise, I can’t find a damn ATM machine. Oh wait there’s one! Не Работает. Doesn’t work. So back to the embassy. He tells me I also need photos. Ok, well, little snag, but thankfully, I know exactly where I can get some taken nearby! Joy! And surely there’s a bankomat near there. Off I go. ...To find that the photo place doesn’t open FOR TWO HOURS! So here I start to have a meltdown. He quoted me 100 dollars because I was early and they could probably do it by Tuesday, but if I can’t get this shit done today it’ll be more. I have photos at home, that my alzheimered ass forgot, but as I calculated the time it would take to get there and back, it wasn’t worth it. So I had a mocha and filled out the application. I might add, the first good mocha I’ve had in this country. Perhaps the first good coffee product in general! Well, there’s not much I can do, except go find a bank. So I wander and wander and I find one, that isn’t open. It won’t be open for another 30 minutes, so I queue up with everyone else, there was about 20 people in line by the time it opened. I go inside to use the ATM, wanna guess? НЕ freakin РАБОТАЕТ! Yeah, it doesn’t work. Thankfully, I’m in no hurry at this point since the photo place still isn’t open, so I wander further and find a working ATM, glory glory hallelujah. Then to the photo place…to wait. Now I’ve been to this place before, so besides some communication problems, when it finally opened, all went smoothly.

Back to the embassy. The kind gentlemen that was there before has been replaced by a snotty young woman. She drily demands I fix errors in my application, demands my passport, etc. Then says I need my migration form. In order to be in this country, I have to have my passport, my visa (not attached to my passport), a migration form, and a registration form. I forgot one. But I have a copy! But that does not matter. She says she absolutely cannot do it. No way will she budge on this issue. I have to go home (1.5 hours), and come back (1.5 hours) with it to get this visa thing. So I said to her, what I’ve learned to be such an important phrase in Russian, Что ДелатЬ? And I stood there. This basically means, So what are we gonna do, or What Can I do? What is there to do. And then you wait. And they shrug, and you wait. And they shuffle papers, and you don’t move. And then someone else comes and they worry with them for a bit. And you wait. And they come back to you and act like the previous conversation never happened and start processing your paper work. Wait, what? What happened to "Absolutely not". It’s kind of surprising when things go like this. I read a book once called From Niet to Da, understanding the Russians. It explained how you often get noes, and how to turn them into yeses, but this method was never covered. It may be too Russian for the book. So she’s processing my papers, tells me it will cost 177$ because she isn’t confident it will be done by Tuesday, fair enough, that’s in the rules I read before. Though I can feel my wallet cringing. I get a receipt and go to the next window to pay.

Well at the bank, I hadn’t been able to take out as much as I wanted, but more than enough to cover the visa and so I bought some things on the way to the embassy while I was waiting. Yes, more than enough to cover 100$. So now I’m at the desk, and I don’t have enough money. Что Делать will not work here. I’ve already been around this place, I didn’t see an ATM. But they assure me there is one at this particular building nearby. So fine. I leave and am halfway there when I realize that the embassy closes for lunch in 15 minutes, and they have my passport and copy of my passport. So I begin to walk fast, because I never run unless it’s really an emergency, and well it hasn’t gotten to that yet. I go in one door, see no ATM, Security directs me to a different door. I go to that door, more security, they won’t even let me in. They direct me to a different door. I go to that door. No ATM, but they will let me take out money! with my passport…. And then I started to cry. That might have worked if I had less dignity. So I’m now in full speed walk. At the second door, I had seen ATM machines past security. They will let me in. And then as I’m on my way, I see a little ATM, hidden behind a corner. It even worked! So I take my money and continue the full speed walk to the embassy where I pay, give my receipt and she says to come back tomorrow for my visa. Fingers crossed!

With all this trouble, it’s a real shame that I can’t actually stop in Belarus.

Russian Mystery Fish on a Train

That's a lot of cigarettes and pistachios for three people



So he turned up not drunk, but a bit battered. Apparently two sets of security had seen it fit to introduce his face to the sidewalk. Unfortunately, he's of no danger to anyone but himself and I'm sure just took it. He kept using the word "Fail". I had a "face fail" coming up quite often. While he turned up sober, we quickly commenced drinking, much to my silent protests of class in the morning. Beer, beer, yorsh. Yorsh? Aka "Russian Mystery Fish" Aka, you're getting drunk. Simply vodka and beer, but they insist on calling it a "Cocktail". Well, we made a merry evening of it and I headed back on the last metro. Hopefully his face survived the rest of the night!

Today was class. I made it to all of them, against all...yorsh. Fairly uninteresting as usual. Then I went to, duh duh duuuuuh, the Russian Train Station Ticket Office. Oh dear. The trials and tribulations of simply finding info on trains. And when you finally find it, it's not right. So I have procured a ticket to Odessa, Ukraine. I hope to God I have anyway. After communicating in my shoddy Russian at the info desk, and then waiting forever at the ticket desk, and communicating in shoddy Russian there, I have a ticket of some sort to somewhere on some day. I'll take this ticket to a Russian tomorrow for confirmation. Also, I pray to God that I did not book through Belarus, as they are not the biggest fans of Americans, and I will have to buy a Visa just to take the train through their country IN THE DARK! And it costs OVER 100 DOLLARS!

Did I mention this train will take 35 hours? It will. I'm so stoked. It's a little piece of a dream. The fact that the train is going the opposite way of my dream is no matter at this point.



One of the last things my friend on the left said before I left, "I'm starting feel afraid for my face"

Dog apparel as a weather vane.

Chinese girl says she was surprised to see dogs wearing clothes here. To which our idiotic (can't work a DVD) blond teacher responds that it's cold here. To which the Swedish student says, it's cold in Sweden and our dogs don't wear clothes. To which the teacher responds, Then it's warmer there. Her argument was that because the dogs don't wear clothes, it's warmer in Sweden. I might add, it was delivered with quite the caustic look.

Monkey beer

I took the above picture in Cambodia. You really need to click it to see it at full size to appreciate it. The monkey has one paw, in a fist, slamming on the beer can. The other is at his head as if pondering how it all came to this.

First I love this picture, second, it sums up my weekend! The canuck that had previously been shacked up in my apartment took leave on Friday. Not without much unnecessary drama. While I'm glad to be rid of said drama, it did leave me a little out of sorts if for no reason other than my apartment was now empty. So I watched a film on Saturday, Dogville. I could not possibly recommend this movie, except for people who like to watch fucked up shit poorly executed. Maybe I missed the point, but just because it's experimental doesn't make it cool hipsters. As the movie was 3 hours long, I took a nap halfway through, only to be awoken by the phone. It was a guy from Moscow I had met a few months ago. He was in town and wanted to see me. What timing! All became brighter (except for the rest of the movie) and I made plans for the evening.

aside: as we were on the phone, a ten year old Russian boy walked into my apartment and then walked out. I'm supposedly living in a "Student Hotel", but really anybody can live there. It's basically a super overpriced apartment complex. So now there's a group of 10 year olds seem to be occupying a room unsupervised. Prior to this my hall was unfortunately only Chinese and Koreans. Nothing against them, but the food they cook is less than pleasant smelling and they are difficult to understand. With the exception of my friend that lives next door. Also, while the Canuck was in residence, we noticed sheets on the fire escape covered in pigeon poop. We're pretty sure that the Asians are catching pigeons for food out there. Good on em, it just smells!

Then my Chinese friend calls who I haven't been able to see in quite a while, and I talk to my American friend about going out and a night is in the works. Hit up the first bar, meet up with the Americans, consume beverages. Blini en route to the next bar. Catch up with my Chinese friend at Fidel. And then play the waiting game for my Russian. And in he comes, like a hurricane, like a drunk drunk hurricane. I'd like to give him the excuse that he did come in on the train from Moscow and probably drank all the way, as is the custom. But his friend wasn't so blindingly drunk. After he poured half his beer on me, he made his way to the dancefloor, where he fell down and almost went to sleep. His friend rouses him and he proceeds to bother the DJ enough to have himself removed. I'm not sure he wasn't battered a bit by security. After all this, he still keeps calling me to go "гулятинг". The past time of Russians. What I typed there is a bastardisation of the word "To walk/stroll". I'll give him a chance to be sober tomorrow. If he's drunk at 3pm, I'm out.

In the middle of this, as I'm at the bar, all the sudden a friend that had gone back to his country shows up. I still can't figure it out, but apparently he went back to Turkey, and decided he preferred Russia. Probably something to do with girls. Either way, we were super stoked to have him back. I think I could come back to Piter in 20 years and the Turk and the Chinese will still be sitting at that bar.


We'll save bridge lamentations for another day.

Big shows in SPB

I'm going to take a minute to list some of the upcoming concerts in St. Petersburg, Russia.

Heaven and Hell ( a form of Black Sabbath)
Duran Duran
The Pet Shop Boys
Morrissey
The Bloodhound Gang
Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds
Depeche Mode

and then...

Limp Bizkit
Motley Crue
Foreigner
Korn
Brittany Spears
Linkin Park
Madonna
The Scorpions w/ Alice Cooper and The Rasmus


That is pretty much the sum-total of big concerts coming to SPB. If I had the money, I would check out some of the first list. And if I had the money, I would buy all the tickets to the second list...and then light them on fire. Well, except for the last one. I would go to that one.

On the beach!

While spring officially started weeks ago, it has been quite chilly, and sometimes downright cold. Not today!! I grabbed my sandals...and sweater and headed to the beach! I live on the bay, Finsky Zaliv. Doesn't it sound exotic? I'll show you how exotic:

And no, I have no idea what this thing is, except that it seems to be made mainly of rubber.



Ok, really, that's not fair. It's pretty from certain views, but I didn't get any good shots of good views. Maybe this one:




I'm off to catch some sun on my balcony! Yay!!

How I managed to get in trouble with two countries governments at once...or maybe not at all.

So the cops here are notorious for stopping people and demanding to see documents, i.e. passport. Since I arrived here, I've only seen brown men get stopped. You can call it racial profiling I suppose, but there is a large problem with illegal immigration from border countries. Recently though, I saw 2 white guys get stopped in the same day. I thought, well maybe they're trying to be less stereotypical, maybe not. I found out (heard, not sure of the validity) yesterday that this month is recruitment month for the militia and the military. So they are stopping young white guys too to make sure they didn't miss out on their military duty. Why did I have this conversation yesterday? Well it followed shortly after we got picked up by the police. Rather, 3 got picked up, I got a pedestrian escort. Good times. Here's the skinny of a not so interesting interaction with Russian militia.

I and my Canadian Cohort are walking back to our domicile. En route, we pass two other Canadians. They are sitting on a bench, having what they like to refer to as "street beers". They get a real kick out of drinking on the street. I guess I can't say anything, I'm a big fan of "street-meat", and no, that's not what that means.   We stop to converse. Ya da ya da. Enter the Militia. "Where are you from?" "Do they let you drink beer on the street in Canada and America? In front of a school no less?" Hmmm, very valid point Mr. Officer, what about everybody else? Russians do it all the time. Well, validly they had the right to do something, these guys were drinking in public, illegal. Does it matter that there are two beers and four people? That two are sitting and two are clearly about to walk on? Negs. I'm not surprised. They walk us to the car after confiscating our documents. One cop (of 3) takes out the bullet proof vests from the back of a tiny Lada and asks us to get in the back. Um, 4 people, one guitar, one tiny bench in a Lada. Not gonna happen. So the boys squeeze in and the officer shoves the door on them. I'll point out that not one of them wondered if it was ok to leave a female alone with a Russian officer. Chivalry may be dead in Canada, I'll have to do further research. At the last minute before driving off, the cop in the front hands my escort my documents. And we start walking. He berates me about something. In retrospect, I thought I knew what he was talking about, but now I'm not sure. I ask him where we're going. He says, Militia. I say, Where is that? He doesn't answer. I think the problem is that one of my documents is expired, but I'm sure it's in my apartment which is across the street, let's go get it. No. Can we call the university? No. We keep walking. Then his cell phone rings, Not his police walkie-talkie. He hands me my documents and walks away. I see the car pull up without the boys, he walks over and gets in. Then I see the boys walking up from the other direction. What happened? Just your everyday Russian bribery. They each paid 500 rubles or about 15 bucks, no paper work, and the cops let them go. I really think that in these situations, it's to your benefit to not speak much Russian and keep saying you don't understand. I wasn't even approached about paying and I actually had an expired document!

Which brings me to my next point. I get back to my room where I'm meant to be packing to go to Moscow and realize the document is not in my room. It dawns on me, I never got reregistered. Registering is this little thing of letting the Russian government know your wearabouts at all times. Technically, if you are in one city for longer than three days, you should register again. Dumb. Well, when I got my passport back from getting a new visa, it was right in the middle of my bank account problems, so she says, take your passport, fix that, and come back and register. I had a few weeks. Well with that mess, and then the apartment mess, I completely forgot. So now I'm supposed to go to Moscow, but I have expired documents, which carries a fine, and possible deportation. So I couldn't go. This morning I high-tail it to school with said tail between my legs, to get this sorted out. The woman, who told me that I HAD to bring my passport back to her to get registered tells me, Oh no problem, I have your registration right here! What?! You've had it this whole time? Why did you tell me you didn't have it and that you needed my passport to take care of it??!!! Why did you tell me it's soooo important and to make sure I came back to fix this? Why?! Because it's Russia, that's why. This is just normal.

So I missed out on Moscow for no reason. Train ticket gone. But hey, now I have time to figure out why I'm being audited!... (yeah, no joke there)

Challenge for Fun

The finer points of Russian language. I was informed today by one of my teachers that the words "fun" and "challenge" do not necessarily exist in the Russian language. Well I've been told a hundred times if I've been told once, "Life is hard in Russia". Always with a pitiful face. So my guess is that the word "challenge" is just translated as Жизнь, or life. And "fun"? Well what room for that word can there be in a culture of perpetual challenge.

Semi-Quasi-Ultra Political

My Chinese friend, Wu says yesterday-“I don’t go to school tomorrow. It is Asian Holiday. Hitler’s Birthday”

Well, clearly he didn’t mean holiday like Праздник. He meant that it wasn’t safe for Asians on the streets of Russia on such a marked day.

Sidebar: Do you think perhaps it's a bad idea to have the UN Conference on Racism and the Holocaust memorial services in Israel on the anniversary of Hitler's birthday? I mean, maybe it's to detract from pro-Hitler demonstrations but I'm sure it only causes more racist demonstrations.

At the Lenta yesterday (think Wal-Mart) I wandered into the electronics department to buy a hair iron. An all important tool in modern Russia. Women who choose not to have one of the many smart short-dos that Russian women wear so well, usually have either straight straight hair, or super super curly hair. You would think this would lead to lower prices for the tools used to create such dos. I mean, the law of supply and demand says that high demand equals high price. But it always boggles my mind when something so intrinsic to a society has such high prices. Stripper boots, absurd fur coats, hats, etc., hair irons; these are things intrinsic to female Russian society. There are mass quantities and a thousand stores to buy these things at. But all of the above are twice as much as western prices, even at second hand stores. So I did not purchase a 60$ hair iron. But while I was perusing the choices (actually only two, but 15 hair dryers, there must be a warehouse of hair irons somewhere that I am unaware of) I noticed that the film showing on the television models was a scene depicting a man and two women in bed. Oh yeah, nudity all over the place. Interesting. Free porn viewing at the local super center.

I went to a market the other day. This place mostly sells clothes, used clothes, and well, everything, but mostly clothes. There is one fruit and veg stand. I saw they had some peppers that looked like they might be spicy, a delicacy from what I’ve seen. Hell, flavour is a delicacy in this country. Anyway, I communicated my inquiry as to their spiciness. I receive, “not very”, but that’s better than not at all, so I grab three and make my way over to pay. It’s fairly obvious I’m not Russian at this point by my 3-year old requests for produce. So the large dark haired, dark skinned, fully gold toothed woman asks where I’m from. I oblige. She gets the biggest smile on her face and says, “Honest?!” Then she’s grabbing others and telling them I’m an American. I’m pretty sure she had never met an American. It was cute, and kind of flattering I suppose. But I felt conflicted. I’m nearly positive that this woman was Georgian, hence her love of Americans maybe. But I backed Russia in the conflict. I mean, I don’t have to fell ashamed for being flattered I suppose. But I guess I’m a little concerned over her extreme excitement, like she’d just met Madonna. I guess there are still America worshipers out there. I’m all for Becka worship, but I’m a little uncomfortable being adored for my country.

Back to the UN Conference on Racism. Ahmadinejad. Well, I'll be honest, I thought he was pretty well behaved and the whole thing was a political circus. I'm not pro-Israel or pro-Palestine, I need to put some more research into this, but I will say, that I strongly doubt that Israel is behaving better than Palestine, probably worse, and maybe the Western world is a little biased in how they are handling things. The media coverage of this has just been ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the media coverage of the Obama/Chavez picture. They act like they are so shocked by Ahmadinejad. Everyone knew he was going to say it, I think he toned it down. His words have some value. Just like Limbaugh and Moore, an extreme opinion is needed to keep everything in perspective. But fortunately Limbaugh and Moore don't have nuclear power behind them... Can you imagine? Someone write that book. Or someone just buy an island that we can put Limbaugh and Moore on and let them annoy themselves to cannibalism. I am way off subject now.

Dinner time!

When does an international affair become international relations?

I am not dead. Quite the opposite in fact. A new apartment has been found. This one does not come with a naked woman. It does not include all the gristle filled ravioli you can eat. It does not include a family willing to test all your toiletries for quality. It does not come with fake doors. It does however come with a washing machine. It also includes a balcony with a view of the bay. It comes with easy transport to local markets and large grocery stores. An oven thrown in for good measure. And a fair amount of privacy. The last is only disrupted by the Canadian that I have obviously been brain-washed into allowing into my life. He however includes cooking skills, and a fairly great taste in music, so we'll keep him around for now.

School is going well. I've actually been asked to leave class because I've learned enough to move on. Class. So tomorrow I start anew. Which means at least 2 maybe 3 teachers will grill me at the beginning of every class to see how much I know. Thankfully, a comrade of mine has also been given the boot, so we can get grilled together. A couple of sandwiches we are. Also, conveniently, he lives in the apartment next to mine. Class all around.

This weekend, I may be partial host to an Asian party. Let me ask a question. Who is offended by the use of "Slant eyes"? Now when I use that term, I often get a really bad reaction. But is it more offensive than "black", "blonds", etc? It's just a comment on their physical features, and it's not derisive. However, to call a group of people that includes Japanese, Korean, and Chinese people; Asian, well that seems more insensitive to me. Asia after all includes India, Turkey, Russia even, and all the Middle East. And some people are flat out offended by the term "Oriental". I suppose I should ask the people of slanted eyes myself. Well, anyway, the point is that on my floor, I am the only person of non-angled and/or particularly oblique ocular sockets. Koreans live on either side and Chinese on either end of the hall with a sprinkling of Japanese for good measure. So this weekend, we shall drink and be merry.

Next weekend I'm journeying to Moscow for the first time. I'll be sharing a sleeper train with 5 Canadians. I will either come out of this completely scarred, or dripping maple juice from my veins. Wish me luck!