October 23rd (sorry it's been so long...)

The picture means nothing... Just a flipped car. No big deal!

Well, I’m procrastinating on doing my homework right now, which involves me reading a text, summarizing it, then memorizing my summary. This would be difficult under normal circumstances, but the Russian language has a knack for making this more difficult than it would be in English… As I was desperately searching for a way to get out of the tedium that is translating a text on different ways newspapers and magazines are distributed (did you know that you can buy newspapers from newspaper racks? Wow… {Ok, I guess I’m selling this a little short, it is interesting that there is no “delivery boy” system here, there is no such thing as the paper on the front step, even the daily papers come by mail}) I realized that I haven’t discoursed on the Russian educational system yet. Essentially, the whole thing is guided by the saying mavterania mat uchenia which means “repetition is the mother of learning.” Rote memorization is king here and we are its devoted servants. I’m still on the fence as to the effectiveness of such a system, but Russians swear by it (of course, they also swear by Stalin so, cum grano salis). One of the groups of Americans here, who are convinced that memorization and repetition is about the stupidest thing ever, tried to formant a revolution against this method. They were soundly defeated by the fact that their teacher (who speaks no English) well, speaks no English and couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t want to memorize texts every night. So that was something of an epic fail… Of course, in the non-foreigner part of the University, classes go a little something like this (this is straight from the horse’s mouth, because this is something of a collage town and usually you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a student at one of the many Universities and Academies here): the professor lectures straight for about an hour and a half, the students copy down every word he says (there is an introductory class for foreigners that focuses solely on abbreviations that allow to write as fast as someone speaks). You then take this text and memorize it almost word for word, because the test is the professor asking you pertinent questions and you answer with the appropriate patch of text from the lecture. The closer to word for word you are, the better the grade. Odd… Anyways, another difference in the system here is the borderline reverence with which students regard their teachers. When the teacher enters the room, everyone stands and one also must stand to ask a question. And when walking the halls, all the students will greet teachers as they pass. I imagine this wouldn’t be quite so shocking in America, but here the contrast with behavior on the street makes a respectful "hello" about the equivalent gesture to prostration or kao-taoing.

Voronezh Moment of the Day

We were out at one of our favorite bars last night when the call came out for an arm wrestling competition. One broken arm later (I wish I was kidding. I almost got sick watching/hearing it so I’m not going to go into detail here. Actually, that’s a story in and of itself. The injured guy was bellowing for an ambulance which was promptly called. The bar then gave the man an icepack and about 200 ml of vodka. Russian home remedies are the best… Anyways, ironically, the ambulance didn’t arrive for another 2 hours {it’s really uncomfortable to try and enjoy oneself with a guy with a broken arm moaning at the next table}. This is ironic because one of the bar’s signature shots is called skoraya ni uspila or “The ambulance didn’t arrive” {not to be confused with “the ambulance is on the way”} which consists of half a beer into which is dropped a flaming shot of half absinth and half vodka. It tastes like partially digested licorice…) Ok, I’m sorry for my writing style. I’m not huge on the whole “proofreading” thing, or even deciding what I’m going to write beforehand. Thus, these posts are essentially a product of what is going through my mind right now (thus all of the asides in parentheses) and I’m sure reading this can be an often tumultuous and perilous journey, fraught with confusion and chaos (or not, I really just wanted to use the word fraught there). Anyways, while I understand this may be difficult for all/some of you, I am utterly unable (read: unwilling) to change my writing style. Wow, where was I going with all this? Anyways, I think the story I was trying to tell was that one of the drinking games I saw being played was checkers with shots (white pieces: vodka and black pieces: brandy). It was fun to watch (once you managed to drown out the moaning man next to you) and quite an experience. Additionally, forcing yourself in on a game of Russian charades is a great way to improve your vocabulary and make new friends.