Кубанский казачий хор/Kuban Cossack Choir

This is a traditional Russian Cossack Choir who we saw performing songs based on the lyrics from famous Russian poetry by Puschkin and Lermontov. I thought it sounded rubbish but it was actually excellent. Good call, Irina Alexandrovna.

Skillful dancing with traditional Cossack cloths.

The men did some kind of piratesque, manly sword dance.

Here we can see a large Balalaika.

Молодец!/Well done!

So, I have now been in Krasnodar for over a month. At the time of such colossal milestones as this, one should take the time to review one’s progress. So what have I learned?

1. In France it is illegal to be homeless unless you have a dog.
2. In every country except England it is acceptable to date children. (We discovered this whilst relating the story of Mike’s botched attempt to find a Russian lady friend, which so far has only resulted in him going on a date with a 16 year old girl who asked which floor the driver occupies on a double decker bus. The reaction from a variety of nationalities consulted was shrugging and giving us that “Oh-the-British-are-so-repressed-and-live-by-unnecessary-rules-which-are-detrimental-to-their-general-well-being” sigh.)
3. Pizza-Sushi-Pasta restaurants are normal.
4. Давай! (The most important word in the Russian language. When in doubt, say davai.) Irina also favours calling us молодцы each time we answer a question, read something out of the book, ask a question, breathe or just generally exist. This translates as something like "Good boy/good girl" in the sense of acknowledging a job well done. A bit similar to the praise I receive at home when I do the washing up. Annually.

I have also learned that sometimes nodding and saying yes when people speak to you in words which you don’t understand results in telling accidental lies. One tendency that I have is to say yes and nod profusely whilst somebody talks to me in order to appear engaged. This has never failed me. Until now. Consequently, my Russian friends are under the impression that I saw Radiohead live in concert and subsequently think I am awesomely cool as when I answered said query regarding this matter I shrugged nonchalantly and said “da” as though it were the most standard, uninteresting occurrence on the planet. It is entirely possible that I have become a pathological liar without even realising. It remains to be seen how this will pan out.

In recent weeks we have obtained a new neighbour by the name of Sascha. He is a middle aged, bald Tajik whose hobbies include staring at Helena’s breasts and pissing on the toilet seat. Catriona has also accused him of doing other unpleasant things on the toilet – but not to his face, obviously. In typical English passive aggressive style, Mike and Sam tackled our problem by putting up an anonymous sign in the bathroom. A few days later I was accosted by the Kommandantka (unstable Babushka who seems consistently drunk) on my way out of the building and asked who had written the sign. I used my expert knowledge of the phrase "I don't understand" and my confused foreigner look to weasel my way out of any awareness of the existence of this sign. 

Here you can see our sign in all its glory, complete with friendly smiley face so as to not cause friction. It technically translates as "It is forbidden masturbate in the toilet. It is forbidden piss in the region of the toilet." But it seems to have done the trick. UPDATE: The toilet has been soiled once again.

To further support my previous description of the Kommandantka, I left my room on Monday to brush my teeth, leaving the door open with Helena and Catriona still sleeping inside. On my return I found the Kommandantka standing in the middle of the room screaming maniacally and incomprehensibly and my roommates looking sleepy, confused and generally disturbed.

April's Fool's Day came around last week and our teacher Irina Alexandrovna informed us of the favourite Russian joke, whereby you tell someone that their back is white. It is not white. Hilarity ensues. Probably. Having said that, I actually found this joke hilarious. But I find many things hilarious in class. I laughed so much that Irina deemed me a Haha-tushka. I was pleasantly surprised by the April Fool's joke from the Russian version of Facebook, whereby it was renamed "in the union" and all headings were accordingly renamed in Soviet style - friends became "Comrades" and so on. молодцы, comrades, молодцы.

"Мои дорогие...вы любите ловить бабочки?"

In between asking us what our favourite words are every five minutes and whether we like to catch butterflies, Irina Alexandrovna also teaches us songs. Here are some examples for your viewing pleasure:

Ёжик в тумане/Hedgehog in the Fog.

Чебурашка/Cheburashka

“In Russian, chocolate is abstract”

Or at least it is according to our teacher Irina Alexandrovna. I pondered this notion at length during the remaining minutes of the class. Perhaps this is the reason that Russian girls are so skinny? Because they are eating some kind of mysterious, abstract chocolate rather than the literal, concrete kind of chocolate consumed by their western counterparts…

The online dictionary defines abstract as follows: Thought of apart from concrete realities, specific objects, or actual instances: an abstract idea.

I have discovered that a number of things fit this description in Russia, such as takeaway coffee and smiles, or indeed any decent coffee or any form of facial expression.

Well, this is not entirely true. Although on a daily basis it is normal to see every second girl carrying some form of flower yet still looking miserable, (a fact pointed out to me by an indignant Mike, just before he lost faith in flower shops altogether) sometimes Russians do smile. And not in that cheesy American soulless robot-waiter kind of way, but as an actual expression of emotion. I feel that this is preferable. Notable smiles include creepy smile of internet café customer, possibly friendly grin of dormitory guard and hysterical laughter of crazy dormitory lady when we can’t speak Russian or after having asked us if we all love Sam because he is so tall that he has to duck under the door.

Other abstract concepts in my daily life here include privacy, personal space and toilets that have been built since the collapse of the Soviet Union.

At the risk of sounding positive, I must admit I had a rather enjoyable Saturday night with some Russian friends at one of their flats and even dared to defy the 11pm curfew by staying over. We all sat in the living room with two giant bowls of Pelmeni as the centre piece, drank some beer, I was introduced to the Russian cocktail masterpiece that is the Highway (Cognac and Pepsi with lemon juice). I think we even created a communal joke, whereby every time I receive a phone call from Germany they shout “Angela Merkel позвонит!” At first they were slightly concerned when my phone rang at 3.30am, assuming that I hadn’t informed the other Bristol students of my whereabouts and that they were in mass panic mode and in the process of destroying Russo British relations by accusing the guards of eating me. However, when they discovered that it was just Angela Merkel checking up on me, all was well once again.

A recurring theme of my experiences so far which I wasn’t prepared for is all the singing. We sing with Irina Alexandrovna during lessons, but I didn’t expect the Russians to whip out the guitar and have a Saturday night sing along. It was a pleasant surprise though. Unlike the surprise of how much excrement was ingrained into the carpet at the Dog Show the next day, which I attended with a mild hangover. I did unintentionally manage to take a photo of one dog in the act, but I am undecided as to whether it fits with the sophisticated tone of my blog.

Another surprise which I have yet to decide whether is pleasant or unpleasant is today’s evacuation of the University due to some kind of terrorist bomb threat (or possibly a terrorist bomb threat drill designed to practise the evacuation procedure). Positive results include going home early. Negative results include the fact that we live 3 seconds walk from the university anyway. So if the university were to explode, we would probably also explode.

Anyway, I have been promised that next weekend I will take part in the most important experience of all: the ‘Russian National Hangover.’

выставка собак - South Russia Dog Show