Why Having a Host Family is Great

Let me be clear, I live on my own by now. But a host family is a great resource (if I may treat them so instrumentally, for a moment) when you’re new to a city and, in general, a country. They correct your language, they criticize your imported social norms — which you can then change or keep, according to your character — and they can generally just be a lot of fun.

Today I stopped by and chatted with my host mother and sister. After a bowl of soup and some sunflower oil-slathered fried potatoes, they taught me a few of the ways of the world:

• If a man wants me to wear something, he should buy it for me.
• I should never admit to a potential professional contact that I hit it off with that when I say “I have to go home,” I mean back to my boyfriend’s place.

These moments are especially ironic, considering my Fulbright research is in gender studies. But as always, I remember not to take Russia too seriously, so as not to seriously damage my psyche.

As another American woman who researched in Russia shared with me, Russia has balms to soothe the wounds it causes. In her words, there was no stress here that couldn’t be overcome with a good cry, followed by a pastry and a tiny plastic cup of espresso from Sever, a St. Petersburg confectionary.

I’d add that a quick visit to the host fam can’t hurt, either.

 

Posing as a Russian Polar Bear

Article in "New Novgorodian Newspaper" about winter swimming

 

Birthday Suit=Swim Suit?

I celebrated my birthday on Monday, January 19, which coincides with the Russian Orthodox holiday Крещение, or Baptism. It marks the end of Epiphany by the Old Russian Calendar.

“Celebrate” in this context doesn’t mean going to church. Nope, I chose the more invigorating celebration — taking a midnight dip in the local river!

I went with two of my Russian friends, a journalist and a freelance photographer, who kindly captured my adventure with an entire sequence of photos. They explained to me how to safely take my first winter swim: make sure to warm up ahead of time with some lunges, don’t get your head wet, and drink something warm afterward. Nadya even tucked my towel and clothes inside her parka so they would be warm for me when I returned from the water!

When we got to the shore, there were dozens of people milling about. It’s a strange sight–men stripped down to their speedos standing next to women in heavy fur coats holding thermoses. It’s also a strange combination of people–Orthodox believers who baptize themselves on that night because they are imitating Christ and believe that doing so will protect their health throughout the year, along with polar bear club members, who just like swimming in freezing water.

It was only -5 Celsius that night, so the river was open. That means instead of making a dramatic plunge into a Russian cross-shaped hole in the ice, we just had to walk in. Less dramatic, but a little more intimidating, if you’ve ever had to walk slowly into cold water!

I watched a few of the first plunges, and when I didn’t notice too many terrified screams, I started my lunges. Once I warmed up, I peeled off my layers of clothes, slipped on my flip-flops, and skidded along the ice to the water’s edge. I ran in, dipped down to my chin, and ran out again. Done!

I toweled off quickly and clumsily clothed myself (tip: don’t try to put on tights when you legs are damp and numb) and drank some tea.

Going for it.

One of the lifeguards is standing on the left, just incase.

The cold temporarily sapped my brain, hence the vacant expression.

 

Blog Resurrected

Hi all,

I’ve resurrected this blog, after an absence of several months. The short story: I got the Fulbright I applied for, so I’m spending this year (September ‘08 through June ‘09) in Velikiy Novgorod, doing sociological research on perceptions of young women about mother capital, a government initiative to grow Russia’s dwindling population by providing financial support to women having two or more children. The weather is rainy, the streets pockmarked and muddy, but the hospitality is as warm as ever. Last weekend my boyfriend Alex visited from Moscow and we went to the banya, the Russian version of a sauna (just add communal beatings with birch branches), and ate some delicious blini. It’s good to be back.

The necessary disclaimer: Though I am a Fulbright recipient, this blog is not an official Department of State website. What I write here does not represent the Department of State or the Fulbright Program.

Hopefully this brief re-introduction will appease the family members wondering where I’d disappeared to, and the two dozen people who have my business card, which has this blog address on it.

My boyfriend Alex is also in Russia for the year; you can read his sporadic musings from Moscow at http://nemowatching.vox.com/.

-Lisa