Russian trip, part 2

After my first couple days in Moscow, I spent the next four days at the conference (the one that paid for my airfare, visa, and lodging-yay!). The conference was held a couple hours (43 km to be exact) outside of Moscow at the Russian Academy of Sciences’ “holiday home.” Such officially sanctioned holiday homes were apparently a common feature of government and academic institutions during the Soviet era as a place bureaucrats (aka apachilik) went on vacation during holidays and on the weekends to rest, and/or wine and dine themselves and visiting dignitaries. The toilets barely flushed, we didn’t have hot water, there was no Wifi, we got served rotten meat one day, and one of the girls found a rat in her room. We giggled about the stereotypical Soviet accommodations, but most of us having done research in western China, we weren’t surprised. It was more than cozy and warm enough, and that’s what was most important. Most of us didn’t even go outside during the conference, spending all three meals and free time in the conference halls/the bar. The conference was held from Sunday-Wednesday, with most of the presentations on Monday and Tuesday. Much to my nerve’s relief, I presented on Monday afternoon, grateful to get it out of the way so I could get drunk at the Monday night banquet where the vodka was flowing.

The attendees and presenters were a mix of UGs who had grown up in the Soviet Union, UGs who had immigrated to the US and Australia, and foreigners (i.e. Americans, Frenchies, Russians and Brits) studying UGs. It was a mix of research ranging from ancient archaeological digs to the Cultural Revolution to contemporary pop music culture in Urumqi. Our common languages ranged from English, to Russian, to Uyghur, to Chinese. Most people could speak at least 4 languages, most commonly the last four just mentioned. However, sometimes this resulted in old Russian men droning on for (I’m not kidding) an hour in Russian, which left much of it useless for me.

However, during the coffee breaks and happy hours, we had boisterous conversations about the Uyghur LGBT community, ethical research practices (to ask or not ask for consent? What is guerrilla subversive research in an authoritarian setting?), Uyghur refugees fighting in Syria, and crazy stories from crossing the border from Kazakhstan into Xinjiang during the 90s (I was a spectator for the latter). It was particularly inspiring for me to meet in person for the first time Uyghur scholars whom I had read their books, a bit of a celebrity sightings for me. All in all, it was an incredible experience for me as a young scholar to meet with and bond with other scholars studying and interested in the same things that I am. We bonded over our shared nerdiness.

After the conference ended on Wednesday, I sat at a coffee shop in downtown Moscow working on the paper I had just presented since my host said she wasn’t available until after 8 pm. I then took the subway to my new couch surfing host where I would spend the next 3 nights. I wasn’t sure how to get there after I got out of the subway station, so I waited at the closest intersection until a friendly-looking woman made eye contact with me. Zdrastvutjie, I said, Hello. And then said I’m sorry I don’t speak Russian in Russian, and I asked her in English if she spoke English. She said yes, she is studying English now. She read the address of my couch surfing host and graciously walked me all the way to the hosts’ house. During our walk, she said she is in finance and works at the bank, pointing to the towering skyscraper by the subway station. She said she was coming home from work. When I commented on how late it was, she said that most of her co-workers work until 9 or 10 pm, and are always working all the time. We chatted all the way, thank god I had her to guide me because there were lots of turns—I would have never found it otherwise (I couldn’t use Google maps or anything since I didn’t have a Russian SIM card).

As we were walking toward the apartment, I heard my name: “Sarah!” A long-haired guy was there. I had suspected my host had a boyfriend or husband because she had said, “we look forward to seeing you.” He said to me, “no English,” but indicated that I should follow him. I said goodbye to my new friend, and told her I would add her on Whatsapp.

He led me to their apartment, and as soon as I walked in, I was suddenly accosted by the strong smell of sweaty feet, cat, and litter box. I felt my eyes grow wider and wider as I saw a cat dart into the next room, a panic feeling spreading through my whole body as I silently freaked out. I’m allergic to cats. They should have a warning on their couch surfing page saying that they have a cat!

The girl greeted me, and I was surprised and confused. The girl in the picture was thin and playing a flute in a sleeveless black dress. This girl was very obese. Did I get sort of catfished?? 

She showed me to the couch. Her English was conversant, though her boyfriend didn’t have any English skills. “Am I sleeping here?” I barely managed to squeak out. “Of course!” she said cheerfully. It was a tiny couch, not much larger than a loveseat. And it was in the same room as the couple’s bed, where the smell of feet and B.O. grew stronger as her boyfriend entered with nothing but a bathrobe tied around his waist and his long, greasy hair flowing around his shoulders. They got me a cup of water, which the cat instantly started to help himself to, lapping up the water out of my cup.

I sat down on the couch, exhausted, as the cat started to attack me, biting my toes and scratching at my leg, and I silently started to freak out. I added the girl who walked with me here on Whattsapp and told myself, “I will ask her tomorrow if I could move into her place.”

The animal attacking me was actually a kitten, and an energetic (and must not have been spayed) one at that. He went on hunting missions the whole evening, the couple laughing and egging it on by dragging a string around the floor and throwing a small yellow ball around the room, which the cat would then fetch and bring it back to the owner. The girl laughed, saying, “Sometimes I don’t know if we have a cat or a dog! Such a crazy cat!” No kidding…

“Can I take a shower?” I asked.

“Not right now, the washing machine is broken and I’m doing laundry right now, so can you wait?”

I laid down on the couch and read my book on Kindle, starting to calm down as I put my life back into perspective as I read about a poor community in Brazil where most mothers lose an average of 5-6 children during their life time (a great book called Death Without Weeping by Nancy Scheper-Hughes which I highly recommend).

The hosts and I awkwardly ignored each other as we negotiated around the small room.

 “The washer is done, you can take a shower now.” I negotiated and maneuvered myself around the micro-bathroom and too hot water, pleased that all my experience in China has made me a pro at this stuff (i.e. uncomfortable showers) by now. When I got back to the bedroom after my shower, the couple was in bed cuddling. I almost puked from awkwardness. And I would have to sleep in the same room with them. Oh, god.

I read more of my book, and after not too long, they turned out the lights. The boyfriend stayed up on his computer, but I was tired enough to fall asleep almost instantly.

In the middle of the night, I was suddenly woken up by the feeling of claws digging into my calves. The cat was attacking me, on some kind of hunt instinct, rapidly running and darting around the room, occasionally returning to my couch and pouncing on me.

Somehow I managed to fall back asleep, only to be woken by something scratching my boob. I instantly sat straight up, looking left and right for that damn cat, but I didn’t see anything running away. Weird, I must have been dreaming. As soon as I fell back asleep, I felt it again. This time there was no mistake: something just clawed at my chest.

Fucking cat! I screamed silently inside my head. But again, I could see nothing, and didn’t hear it run or jump away. I sat up, backing away from where I was sleeping, thinking the cat was hiding in the blankets. Then I saw it: the cat’s paw reaching up out of a gap between the cushion and the frame, turning it’s claw back and forth in a scarily similar imitation of a submarine head spout looking out from under the water, scratching the air. WTF, I wanted to scream. This cat is literally insane. The girl was not joking!

I tried to get more rest, but was awoken again when their alarm clocks went off and they started getting ready for work. I packed a bag for the day, and told them I would be home late. Never really one to do touristy stuff, I found my way via subway to a jiujitsu gym. I asked them if I could join their classes, and they ended up charging me though I was hoping to train for free.

In my stressed-out flurry of conference preparation and proposal writing, I hadn’t even packed any training gear, a rash guard, or a gi. Luckily, I had remembered to pack a sports bra and black leggings. So, after paying the fee and getting the time for the evening class, I went shopping for some t-shirts to train in, and clean underwear (I hadn’t packed enough to account for training sessions). Then I stopped at a restaurant and worked on my proposal for a few hours until class, which involved an embarrassing encounter with the wait staff who didn’t speak English and I had to mime my way through it.

The next 3 days involved a blur of gi and no-gi training multiple times a day. At the gym, I had the privilege of training with 3 Brazilian black belts and 1 purple belt, and several very excellent and athletic white belt ladies. It was a very welcoming and enthusiastic gym and I can say this was the cherry on the whipped cream topped cake that was my trip to Russia. 

Yes, I forgot my blue belt!! 

After training, I would get gyro wraps (TO DIE FOR!) afterward at the street vendor. I could speak in Uyghur to the kabob guys (they were from Kirghizstan so we could understand each other!), since they didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Russian.

On my second night, I was looking at my sweaty and red-faced self, and my huge backpack taking up space in my living room, and a little voice came on in my head. Stop being so pretentious, you fool! Since they’re messy and smelly, that gives you space to be a little messy and smelly too. You should be grateful for the free room! Stop judging and you can give yourself some space to be comfortable here despite all your messy stuff. I had to admit, I had felt a little awkward in Tatiana’s pristinely clean apartment, afraid of her judging eyes if I was being messy.

I took a deep breath, smiled, and said to my host, “how did you learn English? It’s really good.” It turns out that she had gone to a special technical school growing up where you just focus on one subject instead of several subjects, and her school was one such school where English was the focus and they only spoke English 24/7. “I haven’t spoken English in many years. It used to be much better,” she told me. She’s now a computer programmer, which is helpful to know English to do, she said.

I complimented her on her English, and we chatted about our lives. It was really nice sitting there, sharing a moment, and suddenly I didn’t feel awkward at all, but rather quite happy that they offered this space for me. On Saturday morning, they even made me pancakes before I left, hauling my huge backpackers backpack to the gym for one last training session before my 9 pm flight.