Russian Language 101 and out of the mouths of babes!

      So I should be doing my homework but I feel a little guilty for not writing, well writing enough! I am still going to school and the teachers are still refraining from corporal punishment. But only just. A little frustration is becoming evident as the test date looms on the horizon. It isn’t like I haven’t been trying, but the reality of learning a difficult language in three months is settling in. I think some of it may perhaps be a little transference as students study English in school and can identify it but really haven’t had the opportunity to practice so it gets lost like the Algebra I was forced to learn. I have two new translators, David, who is ten and his sister Barbie.

    Barbie was helping me with my homework the other day. Reading the sentence words in Russian and constructing them into a proper sentence and then telling me what it meant in English. I should point out at this junction she is five.

So the irony was not lost on me that this admittedly brilliant little girl was much more proficient in Russian translation than me. She can read and in some cases guess an unfamiliar word like Vodka and Burrito.

Her brother David is extremely talented as well. He provided a concert of sorts when we were invited to dinner. He is a gifted violinist and treated me to a beautiful Irish song that was kind of fast and technical. His command of English is splendid as well and he can translate concepts easily.  He enjoys asking questions like every ten-year-old boy and practicing English. It is fun to glimpse the world through his questions and help him hone his advanced language skills. What is difficult for their Mother is finding a teacher capable of keeping up with them in this little village, as the locals call it.

Anapa is not a village, and this village reference is a little tongue in cheek. It is like many resort cities in Canada, busy playgrounds with short time residents bothering long term ones. Like our resort playgrounds, it is hard to find advanced educational options.  Their Mother Tatiana is a beautiful, happy individual and a joy to be around. She wants the best for her children and understands the advantage of being multilingual. I find consolation in the way she speaks as it reminds me of the difficulty we “with time under our feet” have learning and trying different language skills. Tatiana speaks English very well and culturally understands Canadian humor and jest so I have a little outlet now for some jokes.

    We all went down to the beach the other day and went for a swim in the Black Sea. Most of the conversations were conducted in English and it was fun to see the looks on the other people around us. It was quite obvious they were very amazed at the spectacle.  Two fellow beachgoers even bid us farewell in English when they left. A clear sign of acceptance and respect, and I responded in Russian.
As we started walking up the hill, Barbie was reading signs to me. A group of twenty-something aged girls were walking a small distance ahead of us and slowed to listen. Barbie was reading a sign that contained the word doma, or house, and another word she didn’t know but knew how to say. Slightly frustrated with this word and me, she repeated it, in a tone we men know well. The one that says, “I might have forgotten, but you should know this.” She continued a little louder, bringing chuckles from the group of girls. “Burrito” she repeated with a cute little accent that is usually missing when she speaks English she understands. The hint of an accent provided the clue I needed to get the word. “Ah!” I said. “The House of Burritos.” “Nyet!” She replied in Russian. “Burrito House!” She said in English and then continued in both languages explaining the missing “The” and the non-plural sentence order. Finished she asked; “what is a Burrito?” Bringing more laughter from the group of listening kids as she asked it using both English and Russian words. I explained this tasty Mexican dish as she nodded her understanding and a few of the girls listening looked back in disbelief.

I have been also testing Russian customer service. I busted both of the screens on my YotaPhone 2 and had to wait to get back to Russia to send it in for service. Lianna, my wonderful sister, took the phone back to Moscow after a fantastic visit in an attempt to get a quote from YotaPhone for its repair. We are still waiting. It has only been ten days and while I know it will cost me money to fix as I dropped it, I don’t know how much yet. We couldn’t do this in Anapa as they don’t have a service center here. In fact, I saw more actual YotaPhones overseas than I have here in Anapa. Locals here ask me why I bought this phone and not an iPhone 6. When I explain that I think, it is a better phone they look in disbelief. I usually have to enlist the translation skills of Inga as I attempt the convince them. Russians seem to suffer from the idea that things made in the country are not as good as things made out of the country. This is simply untrue and I don’t mind attempting to change this mindset.

Back in Anapa Russia and going to school.

       So life finds me back in Anapa and back in kindergarten. It also finds me alone. I see it as a vote of confidence that I can make my way in this city without Inga’s help. Well, I have always been a little overconfident. In reality, it is all-good and I get to practice my language skills and when that fails charades and re-enactment sound effects. Inga and I were planning on visiting our parents on our return to Russia. But like all plans things changed. Russia now requires any residency applicant to write, read, and speak Russian. So I had to start school right away as I only really have three months to master this exotic tongue.  This meant I had to stay at home and as much I hated this, I miss my Russian parents as much as Inga, it was unavoidable. Russian is hard as it has an entirely different alphabet and while Russians have had to learn English in school for years, they fail as much as I do in mastery. However, I have great and motivated teachers that are enjoying teaching me as much as learning from me. My history teacher is a Radio personality here in Anapa and used to be on TV. Her degree is in Psychology and my English teacher is even more qualified, or over qualified with Ph.D., as is the case but it makes for a rich and rewarding learning environment. They all are very intelligent and accepting of me as I struggle to learn with encouragement.  This new law came into effect in January and while I totally agree with the requirement, I wish it came with a few months to learn. I hate it when Canadians can’t speak the language, especially when employed in the service industry. I recently had an issue understanding a Canada Customs Officer. She wasn’t speaking French either!! Inga had said I was hard on her when we got loaded on the plane and now…Well, Karma is a bitch! So taking a little time to enjoy the beach while I listen to the phrases over and over learning how they sound and feeling a bit odd about the children’s workbook on my lap. Finger following along as Google reads it.

Yeah, I am heavy rolling prime beef on the beach! But I am learning it and remembering it and at fifty that is an accomplishment in itself. I was going to do a bit of a change in style on this installment and write this in the travel writer style but I am no longer holding out hope for an easy out to this Visa issue by getting a job doing travel writing. So life is a little in the wind and both Inga and I are practicing our Thainess by just accepting the things we can’t change and roll with the punches.

My Russian is actually improving, as the signs that accompany me on my walk to school are slowly starting to catch my attention and I understand them. I have been putting in the effort two or three hours of school and then four or so doing exercises on the computer in the evening. It has been cutting into my writing time to be sure and this blog is evidence of such. When I started it, Inga had just left and tomorrow she comes home. So almost two weeks have passed.

I managed to order a Gyro and understand the spoken amount the other day returning from school. The little Armenian guy who has opened a new shop on the corner was a bit perplexed until I told him I was Canadian. He was patient and together we got it done and paid for. He asked why I moved from a great country to Russia, we have a rep Canucks, and I told him I loved Russia and the sun. He smiled and nodded his agreement and understanding although I think I switched up the genders of the two. Russian has three gender assignments for adverbs and the noun changes the word before and after. It also changes the sounds of both these words as well. They also assign gender to numbers and hierarchy or proper, polite speech. Yeah, it is confusing as hell but I am slowly getting it with the help of my teachers. Inga is back tomorrow so we will get to practice live instead of drool computer speak. Google isn’t as good a translator, for Russian, as Facebook is. I know my Russian fans and friends are enjoying the struggle and proud of my effort.

The other day I was walking down the street and an old women stopped and asked me directions to the post office. She had no doubt noticed my tan and assumed I was a local. I managed to explain I was from Canada and a tourist. Her eyes went wide like she was witnessing a rare animal species. I stumbled through saying I understand Post Office and then gestured and said let’s go in Russian. We walked in silence, slowly as she weighed the cost of getting lost with this strange creature against her energy level. I walked her to the post office and then asked her if this was correct. She smiled and nodded her head and I noticed she had tears in her eyes. She saw the concerned look on my face and took my hand and in very slow Russian said; “Thank You May 9.” May 9th is a holiday in Russia commemorating the Allied victory over Germany. I was confused at first and then got it. The only connection to Canada she had was our help during the Great War as it is called here and while she didn’t look old enough to have personal experience from that time, she must have been. The look in her eyes was the same look my Father used to have on Remembrance Day. I nodded my understanding and said in Russian “your welcome.” I watched her old eyes dart back and her brow creased as she searched for a memory. Finding it with a smile she said in English “welcome to Russia” let go of my hands and shuffled off towards the doors of the post office.

I walked back down the street named after Lenin towards my school and remembered the 22.6 million Russian lives lost in that conflict. My mind making the connection that at home our vets struggle to forget that horror while paying tribute to those that were lost and reminding the community to remember. In Russia the community never forgets and are grateful each day for the sacrifices of the defenders of their Mother. Rodina!