From somewhere...

Having just finished one of my countless papers that I had to write for my Master programme this past year I am thinking of the many evenings in Forli when I had a deadline and was ‘almost ready’, pushing myself to finish one minute before the paper was due.
In a way I could have been anywhere these past hours, behind the same laptop, with the same music. Only I am 5000 km eastwards, 5 hours ahead and therefore have no problem with this last minute…the only problem I face here is missing internet at home…and thus needing to go out in the dark. Ben, my American classmates lives a few blocs away and he does have internet. I realise that I have become so used to streetlights everywhere I lived (except for Romania, where the lights were turned off around 11 at night). On the one hand this is wonderful, provides in some ways safety and security, on the other hand it gives ‘light-pollution’ and prevent us from seeing stars. Here in Novosibirsk there is no point looking up to the stars at night when walking home because all attention needs to be focussed on the pavement, full with holes and after rain, pools of mud.
Today someone mentioned again that the winter, as the autumn, is very pretty here, with the snow covering all the dirt and ‘mistakes’ in the street and on the roads.
Time has passed so fast the last 5 weeks, with so many language classes, with many hours going back and forth to Berdsk, with a lot of time behind the computer, but also with talking to many different people. People are so friendly and helpful, especially when you are introduced by someone. An Italian couple I met today, who has been living here in Novosibirsk for five years now, mentioned that ‘whenever you need help, ask a women, she will doubtless help you’. For what I can say so far, it is true, bringing me to the thought that it maybe will be very interesting to write my thesis on ‘Women organisations’. To find out what my thesis clearly will be about needs many more hours behind this laptop, in this room, in this city, somewhere in Siberia….

Een sprookje

Kreeg inspiratie en een warm gevoel van het licht en de kleuren van de bomen toen ik een van de universities gebouwen verliet een uur geleden. Een extra rondje gelopen achter de universiteit langs. Eerst langs de rij wachtende mensen, waarschijnlijk allemaal op weg naar huis. Enkele aangeschoten mannen in de bushokjes en bij de kleine verkoophuisjes. Fruit, groente, koekjes, hot-dogs, chocolade, melk, tijdschriften, alles te koop, allemaal in kleine verschillende huisjes uitgestald. Het is warm vergeleken met de afgelopen dagen, een graad of 7, maar vochtig en de schemering en de herfstgekleurde bomen creëren een droomachtige sfeer in de fantasieloze blokkenwijk. Misschien wel alleen op dergelijke momenten krijgen de gebouwen een wat menselijker aanzicht.
Aangekomen bij mijn studentenflat/hotel besluit ik nog wat fruit te halen. Ik vind een standje met allerlei soorten fruit, druiven, appels, peren, pruimen, bananen, granaatappels. Twee jongens uit Oezbekistan wegen mijn druiven en granaatappel af en vragen me waar ik vandaan kom. Of het hier beter is dan in Nederland?! Ik vraag hen waar het beter is, hier of in Oezbekistan. Ze vertellen me dat het ’s winters veel warmer is in hun geboorteland. Ik probeer uit te leggen dat de Nederlandse winter net is als de herfst hier, nat en fris.
Ik wordt vervolgens 20 jaar geschat en neem afscheid wanneer de ene zegt dat de ander me mee naar Oezbekistan wil meenemen.
Bij de studentenflat krijg ik mijn sleutel zonder te hoeven zeggen welke kamer ik heb. Ze worden met de dag vriendelijker de dames van de receptie. Vooralsnog zit ik alleen op een kamer, maar mag binnenkort mijn kamer delen met een meisje uit Mongolië.
Naast me wonen twee Brazilianen. Novosibirsk, het middelpunt van de wereld, de grens tussen Europa en Azië?
Morgen weer naar Berdsk, theedrinken, naar de Russische sauna, en frisse lucht.

Autumn-shoes-shopping

Ever since my arrival I have been surprised and amazed by the fashion of Novosibirsk street life. Especially women and girls seem to be very aware of the latest fashion and give welcome colour next to the somewhat grey and depressing Soviet architecture. But most of all I am fascinated by the height of heels, most Russian women balance daily on shoes with heels with at least 10 cm in length, and more than often, only 2 cm in width. It is not strange to see a girl sinking away in the mud pavements, forcing her to walk like a ballerina.
Today I had planned to go to the regional library together with a Russian classmate, I have the feeling that I don’t master Russian well enough to come across the guard, so I had asked her to accompany me. Whether there had been some kind of miscommunication or simply a Masha’s disinterest in libraries, I don’t know, but instead we went for autumn-shoes-shopping. We went in and out all shoe shops on Karl Marx Prospect, must have been more than a dozen.
Masha explained me the necessity of autumn shoes, as opposed to summer and winter-shoes. I guess back home there is not such a great difference, autumn and winter-shoes are the same I would say. But here, in Siberia, you need autumn shoes that protect you against the rain, and winter shoes that keep out the cold, the latter having fur inside and often sued, the prior of leather or something that looks like it (plastic).
Already having bought two pairs of shoes in the past three weeks, a pair of summer-shoes (or autumn in my imagination) and winter shoes, Mascha convinced me that I do need to find a pair of shoes for the coming month, the autumn month. A hard task, or maybe I should try a pair of balancing shoes?!

Hide and seek

Today (Thursday) after class I got on the Marschroetka to Berdsk, to Marina, Sasha and Vania. A Marschroetka is A=a mini-bus that can carry 12 people and takes you within an hour to the kitchen with lots of tea and a mother that is over-worried. I figured out what the most strategical place to sit is, which is either next to the driver or in the back. Otherwise you are likely to end up the one having to collect the money or telling him when to stop.
When I arrive in Berdsk and I manage to find my way through the labyrint of blocs and small playgrounds to number 36, Marina welcomes me with stuffed peppers and tea. After the late lunch I try to study but am luckily freed by Marina who tells me to come on a little trip.
We are driving an hour east-wards, past closed factories and small towns and villages where people are left without work. We are passing fields, forests and some small lakes. We are on our way to Griboj, a village that has the name of the purpose of our little trip. Griboj is a bit off the (under construction) asphalt road, and we pass the houses with fences coulored in pink, green and purple. People look up when we drive towards the forest. I wonder whether these houses have streaming water. Winters must be cold, and white, though there is lots of wood…
The people from the small village have probably been before us, there is hardly any grib = mushrooms left.
Everywhere around Berdsk I have seen people with plastic bags or buckets bent over walking through the forest. There are around 10 different types and I have no knowledge whatsoever about eatable or poisonous mushrooms, luckily Sasha and Marina do. It feels a little bit like Easter-egg-hunt and am overjoyed when I find a group of big black mushrooms. We go home with 5 litters, little for an 1,5 hours search, but it is great to come out, to smell the fresh nature, to feel the vastness of ‘Siberia’. Fields, forests, and a single asphalt road that brings you to Kazaksthan or Mongolia.