Russian Superstitions and Angry Desjornias

(Written Wednesday)

Now, for those of you that don’t know, Russians are very superstitious people. They are superstitious about everything. Drinking buttermilk will cure all illnesses; sitting by a draft will surely kill you. You can’t shake hands over a doorstep. You absolutely must look at a mirror if you forget something and have to go back to retrieve it (I learned this one quickly). And today, I learned a new one.

Internet access is very sketchy at MGU. You can go to an internet café across campus if you want internet, but it’s very expensive to buy it and although you can easily hook up to another café’s internet connection from it for free, they have guards all over the café that are constantly looking for any “suspicious” activity. I used to get my internet that way, but soon got tired of buying terrible $5 cappuccinos, the relatively long walk (just to get the internet, anyways), and the glares. You can also get internet set up in your room by a mysterious group called the “Hackers.” Apparently, these are students at MGU and for anywhere from $30-$80 a month (depending on how much they think they can get out of you), you can get wifi in your room. Finally, you can go to an internet café right next to the stolovia in the basement of the main building. Of course, you need to buy something to use the internet, but it just happens to be the most expensive café on campus. I go there often, but don’t like paying a $3 bucks for yet another cup of tea just because I forgot to send an email. So, most students sit on the floor on top of the café and can get access to the café’s internet that way. I now spend most my evenings sitting on the floor of the school using the internet. But, I digress…

There I am, as per usual, sitting on the cold floor by the door, shivering as the door blows another gust of icy-cold wind and snow into the building, and writing an email to my boss. A Russian girl comes up to me, asking me if I can help her get on the internet because her laptop is not connecting. I try to help, to no avail, and we sit there together on the floor, she trying to get on the internet, me trying desperately not to look too foreign. We are sitting there when this angry old man (yes, apparently there are also angry old men in Russia) comes up to us, yelling at us (well, it turned out he was yelling at me) to get off the cold floor. He spits, “Foreigner. American” like a curse. Of course, at that precise moment, I am reading a warning sent from the State Department to all Americans abroad about the need to take extra precaution abroad due to some recent violence in Gaza. I have never been identified as an Americanabroad. Heck, I’ve rarely been identified as an American in America. And the first time has to be when I am reading about how much other countries hate our guts…Lovely. Anyways, that’s not the point.

The old man continues to yell at us to get off the cold floor while the Russian girl yells back. I don’t know what is going on at the point and am just trying to mimic the Russian girl while simultaneously ignoring them both. Fortunately, by this point, my battery is getting low and I have the perfect excuse to leave. I casually put my laptop in my bag and, with one last haughty glare – who are you calling an American, you decrepit old man (apparently, that’s how you are supposed to handle these situations…sure) – I flee for my room. Once I get back, I rush to Susan, who surely has the answer for why random people like to yell at me. She does. And now I return to Russian superstitions. Apparently, sitting on cold floors makes women barren. As Susan tells me this, I promptly sit down on the cold floor of our hallway, hoping to increase my chances at barrenness – sorry mom, no grandchildren for you.  So, yeah. There’s another Russian superstition for you. So, ladies, if you want children, off the floor you go. And those of you who don’t, come join me on the floor. It's really quite nice...

But, wait, I am not finished. That was just part one of my evening. The old man was not, in fact, the angry Desjornia I spoke of in the title. No, that would be too easy. As I sat here, innocently writing this blog at my desk, I hear a rap on the door. Thinking it is one of Susan’s friends, I leave the door to her and continue as before. Soon, I hear the angry voice of our resident desjornia (the Russian equivalent of a housemother, just angrier). Thinking that it was another kettle raid (for, truly, owning a kettle is an automatic ticket to the seventh level of hell around here), I pray a short prayer for my doomed suitemate and pretend not to notice them. But no, because the angry desjornia is point in my room while yelling in Russian. Resigning myself to death by bludgeoning by potatoes, I head out to meet my fate.

She then starts yelling at me about February the 1st, pointing at her clipboard all the while. “Today is the fourth,” she shrieks. “February the 1st has passed.” “Truly,” I think, “I thought the fourth came after the first, silly me.” Outloud, I just repeat my standby of “da.” Through all her chattering, I am able to discern that apparently, I am not supposed to be in the dorm past February 1st unless I can produce something mysteriously called a naropa (or something...). I have no idea what she is talking about so I return to my room and hand her my student ID and prospusk (the card that gets me into the dorm). “Het propuska,” she continues to screech. I turn to Susan in mind-numbing fear, only to see my wide-eyed faced mirrored in her own. Together, we are able to work out that I am supposed to have some other paperwork in order to extend my stay. Without it, I am not allowed to be in the dorm. Now, you are probably thinking, “shouldn’t ‘they’ (the omniscient, mysterious ‘they’) have told me if I needed anything else? Of course not, silly, that would have been reasonable. I am eventually able to get a hold of Lisa, my Resident Director, and get her to talk to the desjornia. I feel really, really bad about constantly disturbing Lisa late at night (first it was the cancelled transfer, then the messed up classes, now this), but the severe lack of readily available information makes navigating life at MGU near impossible, even if you can speak the language. Anyways, Lisa is able to placate the desjornia temporarily and I am off tomorrow (Thursday) to figure out what in the heck I am supposed to do. Wish me luck!

Edit: Just noticed the newspapers and flat cardboard boxes around my little makeshift-internet access spot. Apparently, women are supposed to take one and sit on it if they are going to use the internet on the floor... Go figure.

Edit II: International Students Office decided not to open this week. Will try again next week. Here's hoping I don't get kicked out before then.