What we're saying:
'tatch = attached (as in "My hair's attached to my head!")
'syo = Vsyo, or "that's all" in Russian
No mo' = no more
bikk = book -- lots of books and pointing to what we know these days
Wah-nioh! = "oignon!" (repeated with Daddy many times in silly-exaggerated-French-voice as we were preparing French onion soup last week)
Tay-tay = Sanchez
Agga = Edgar
What words we're practicing in yoga class:
грудина = breastbone, sternum
подбородок = chin
(As in, "Это подбородок. Грудина вверх." / "That's your chin. Lift your breastbone.")
копчик = coccyx
втягивать = draw or pull in
(As in "втягивайте копчик.")
поясница = small of the back
крестец = sacrum
пах = groin
лобок = pubic bone
голень = shin
ягодицы = buttocks
талия = waist
грудиная клетка = thorax
сустав = joint
таз = pelvis
бёдро = thigh
тазобедренные суставы = hip joints
стопы = feet
мячик стопы = ball of the foot
плюсна = metatarsus
колено = knee
чашка колена = kneecap
позвоночник = spine
позвоночный столб = spinal column
вытягивать = extend, stretch
(As in "вытягивайте позвоночник.")
лопатка = shoulder blade
пятка = heel
локоть = elbow
плечо = shoulder (as in, "плечи назад и вниз" / "press your shoulders back and downward.")
ладонь = palm of hand
лодыжка = ankle
ступня = sole of foot
What we're listening to:
The Diggs, Commute (and waiting for their new album to drop in Vlad via dip pouch)
Vyacheslav Butusov, "Pesnia idushchego domoi" (one of the few things I hear on Russian radio that I like)
Kim Wilde, "Kids in America" (another pleasant surprise heard on Russian radio recently)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Thaw
These past few weeks, and especially after we returned from South Africa, we seem to have broken that winter inertia and have begun to get out a lot more with friends and colleagues. And I seem to have fallen into a routine of sorts that involves finally trying a lot more activities in town and more interaction with people than I'd previously engaged in. Well, it feels like a pattern was beginning to emerge, and then I finally left my job at the Consulate to return to my research, and of course I'm going through the inevitable period of adjustment to that, figuring out how to approach work and actually accomplish something, and concentrate well enough during work (or really nanny) hours to really get done what I want to do. But, between preschool classes, playdates, yoga, the theater, poker, and exploring Peter the Great Bay, we've seen a boom in social and exploratory activity in past month or so that's been a great change.
Pink Elephants
I'm not really sure what "Pink Elephant" means to Russians, but I've been told it has various meanings that aren't really appropriate to the toddler set in English. Be that as it may, we are still big fans of the "Pink Elephant Montessori Early Development Children's Center."
We go Thursday mornings to the Pink Elephant, 10:30-12. Essentially that means an outing from 10-12:30, what with getting dressed to go outside into the cold (which this week has thankfully started to end), driving down to the place (although it is relatively close, and just a short distance from the Consulate in fact), getting undressed once we've arrived, etc., etc. But it's worth it. I really enjoy getting out, having a change of scenery, seeing (if not really interacting to any significant degree) the other parents, and getting even more varied Russian language practice. And I think Anya too enjoys it -- seeing and interacting a bit with other kids, which seems so important right now at her age, and also the change of physical scene and the variety of toys and kinds of activities that it introduces for us.
The place is in a converted apartment, on the first floor of a typical older (1930s construction? I'm really not sure) Russian apartment building. The place itself is nice, even if you are greeted with the stink of the common areas when you enter the stairwell/entryway (some things in Russia never change). If we get there in time, all those who're attending that session sit together in a circle to introduce themselves and greet one another, and then it's just off to the races, following what I understand is typical to the Montessori method, letting the kids themselves choose what to do and providing guidance once they've chosen. We gather again just at noon, when the teacher tells a little story with figures, which inevitably has some kind of moral lesson (the time there was an obnoxious, bratty boy, whose behavior actually was really surprsing, given how good most of the children are, she told a story about a boy who always was mean to people and animals and got his comeuppance when he offended a hedgehod and learned his lesson that he should be nicer to everyone). And we all say goodbye in a similar way and then begins the process of getting dressed again, with all of those layers and hats and scarves and boots, etc., etc.
The place has four rooms: the main one has all sorts of developmental toys, from puzzles, books, play tables with sand and beans to rake through and pour; there is the "wet zone" with play tables and basins for playing with water; there is the "blowing off steam room" with more playground-type equipment, for physical play; and then there's more of a creative activity room, where I think you can draw or paint -- we haven't really gone in there much yet.
For some reason we seem to start out at the plastic and wooden fruit, often do some work with the sand/bean stations, trying not to make that much of a mess to clean, spend some time in the "blow off steam" room, and sometimes get preoccupied with the shiny marbles and colorful, flat stones in one of the rooms. This last Thursday was our first real foray into the water room, where we got wet enough to resort to our change of clothes before leaving. The sponge, and all of its properties of gathering and releasing water, made a real hit.
The Pink Elephant has been so inspiring, I have us set to try out a second local preschool on Friday.
The After-CLO
I'm getting out more myself, too. Something about the process of thinking through what we should do next, together with the fact that there is now an increasingly close end-date of our life in Vlad, has me fighting inertia more and getting out and doing things.
I've now been twice to the Sarasvati Yoga Center -- apparently the only one (only dedicated center -- in its own freestanding structure, no less! -- devoted to yoga and only to yoga) in Vlad, although yoga classes are given in various settings around town. This place is actually for me a fascinating mix of The Familiar and The Alien. In some ways it is so very much like the (very few) yoga places I've experienced outside Russia, in the level of informality, the serious dedication to yoga, yet the mix of sports-minded and more consciousness/Eastern-spiritual perspective on yoga. But the funny thing to me is the way the women (so far all the clientele I've seen are women) are just so very Russian in the end. For starters, they all wear makeup. And I guess, for whatever reason, Russians can't imagine going out in town wearing exercise clothes -- it isn't really something I ever thought about, but now that I do, I realize you really don't ever see anyone dressed in obvious exercise clothes outside. So, for yoga, everyone wears their street clothes and changes there. I guess that is part of the reason that all of them also wear surprisingly nice undies and bras, too -- as usual, in Russia, although this time in a new and different way, I feel soooo very un-zhenskii. And finally (I've only been there twice so far; I'm sure I'll come up with more as time goes by), instructor and students alike had no problem sitting down together right after class last Saturday with a big chocolate cake, tea, and champagne to celebrate March 8, International Women's Day, together. This was very nice for me, since they were so welcoming to a newcomer, insisting that I take off my already-donned coat and scarf and join them, yet also for me so curious, since I can't imagine anyone at my old yoga center in DC doing anything of the sort.
The yoga taught there is primarily Iyengar, which is different from the Ashtanga I've done, but still very enjoyable. It's great to get out and see other people, to participate in a class. Iyengar, at least in the way they're teaching it at this place, involves much less intense movement with breath (the "flow" of the style with that name, which I understand is like Ashtanga), and much more attention to individual poses and one's stance and the placement of nearly every single muscle and body part, and how they should be tensed or relaxed or stretched or pointed within a pose. It feels like a good slow, concentrated effort, and it complements nicely any of the more athletic Ashtanga I'm able to fit in at home over the week (which inevitably is unfortunately rushed and/or abbreviated, and done with the aid of either my own memory or an audio recording only, so my attention to each pose is inevitably rushed and more superficial). And, yet again, just like the preschools, this is proving a great way to practice and broaden my Russian: I come home each time and have a handful of anatomical words to look up and/or confirm that understood correctly in class, such as coccyx, shoulder blades, kneecaps, groin, and spinal column.
Exploring More Primorye
We took a ferry ride with friends across the Peter the Great Bay this weekend, for an overnight stay in Slavyanka, and had a surprisingly good time just seeing a new place, hanging out, and enjoying spending time with a fun, well-behaved Anya. In fact, it went so well that we're reminded of how, especially now that spring is really sproinging, we need to get out and explore more, whether on day trips or again staying the night on the road.
It's hard to describe what was good about this trip: it isn't as though Slavyanka has much to offer, really. Our New Zealander friend, a longtime resident of Vlad, suggested that taking the ferry across the bay while the ice was still present was an experience not to be missed, so we agreed to travel as walk-ons on the Saturday evening ferry from Vlad and return on the Sunday afternoon ferry (the only options on offer), for a trip that has us gone from home a little less than 24 hours in all.
It went appropriately not-as-expected in several ways. Anya was great, and our apprehension about travel with her was allayed. After the trouble with sleep in South Africa, we were wary of what might happen in a strange hotel room. And even despite this (and the hotel's lack of a crib), we decided to travel light and not bring our portable crib. But the kid did great, going right to sleep on the bedspread bordered by pillows that Dan set up for her next to our bed when we laid her down at 10, and waking up only at about 7:30.
The hotel (the "best in the town" according to our taxi driver) was pretty good, all things considered, but since we chose to travel on International Women's Day, the cafe downstairs was fully booked and rocking out when we checked in at about 9:30. But we were able to order food (from some skeptical waitresses) up to the hallway outside our rooms on the third floor, where the 5 adults in our group sat around a low table and enjoyed surprisingly good salads and starters, pork chops smothered in cheese and mayonnaise (hey, we've lived here a year and a half -- some things you just get used to) and scallops. On Sunday morning, three (and a half) of us set out to explore the town on foot, and finally found the closest thing possible to the joke fantasia that was spun out the night before about a now settled itinerant Frenchman, an espresso machine and some expertly made pastries. There was no Pierre in sight, but the Buffet "Tranzit" was nothing like what the name may call to mind. It was clean and sunny, with an unexplained American-themed decor, complete with cheesy Route 66 pictures and a photo poster of a double-decker sightseeing Big Apple tour bus on the streets of New York. The pastries were actually quite good (OK, not French, but surprisingly good), and there was even real brewed coffee, even if we were charged a dollar for about 2 ounces of it.
And when we met up with our New Zealand-Russian pair and their 2 kids, we made a post-breakfast tour of Slavyanka and surroundings, care of our previous night's taxi driver's colleague with a minivan. His vehicle did yeoman's service on a couple of muddy inclines and a dusty climb to the top of the local hill, during which our Kiwi friend recited some kind of antipodean mantra to ward off the possibility that our vehicle might roll sideways. The pictures (which really do give the sense of what a non-destination Slavyanka was -- it really was about getting out, exploring, and enjoying each other's company and the beautiful weather, complete with temperatures above 10 degrees C) are on Flickr, as usual.
And in other news...
Things We Learned In South Africa and Haven't Unlearned
A call and response number that goes like this:
Anya: "Tapp!" ("Chop!" from the Nigerian hip-hop song whose refrains asks...)
Mom or Dad: "Whatch'ou wann chop?!"
Anya: "Pah-tah!" ("Small stout!," an adaptation of the response in the song, a baby voice that says "I wann' drink small stout!")
Well, you probably had to be there, or at least have to listen to the song yourself to understand the humor...
What we're listening to:
the new Bettie Serveert, Bare Stripped Naked
more Feist
The Pretenders greatest hits (especially my favorites, Kid and Talk of the Town)
Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
What we're saying:
O-key!
U'-oh! and Uups!
Hah-reh! = hooray!
tikka = kitty-cat (also kissa = kittycat in Russian) Both variants followed by squeals and giggles of delight, and, if the cats are unlucky, various attempts to pet or scare them.
shi' = shirt
patt = pants
tait-ss = tights
boo-tay, boo-day = for some unexplained reason, mittens
pato = sweater
bah-koo = buckle
sjak, hyak = sock
yek = light
dahk = dark
bikk/bekk = 1. milk, 2. book
Tatti = Charlie (son of a friend, whose photo sits by the highchair and therefore is very familiar now)
Maya = Mara (family photos also sit nearby)
da-dya = all men who are not daddy, including Grandpas and Great-Grandpas ("Dyadya" does have that meaning in Russian, when it doesn't mean "uncle.")
Ghamma = grandma
Nongo = Noriko, our neighbor
Ngimmi = Jimmy, Noriko's son
yammi/nammi = yummy
yakki = yucky
gabig, kabig = garbage
doo-dats = dirty
koht = cold (Cf. aisseee)
haht = hot
kavvi = coffee (and sometimes cough)
oon = orange
tu-tu-tu = Cheerio
deppi = dipping sauce
hman = pen
hmoon = spoon
man-key/bah-kki = monkey
boii = boy
rou = loud
kah, kau = car (tends to rhyme with "rou")
Pink Elephants
I'm not really sure what "Pink Elephant" means to Russians, but I've been told it has various meanings that aren't really appropriate to the toddler set in English. Be that as it may, we are still big fans of the "Pink Elephant Montessori Early Development Children's Center."
We go Thursday mornings to the Pink Elephant, 10:30-12. Essentially that means an outing from 10-12:30, what with getting dressed to go outside into the cold (which this week has thankfully started to end), driving down to the place (although it is relatively close, and just a short distance from the Consulate in fact), getting undressed once we've arrived, etc., etc. But it's worth it. I really enjoy getting out, having a change of scenery, seeing (if not really interacting to any significant degree) the other parents, and getting even more varied Russian language practice. And I think Anya too enjoys it -- seeing and interacting a bit with other kids, which seems so important right now at her age, and also the change of physical scene and the variety of toys and kinds of activities that it introduces for us.
The place is in a converted apartment, on the first floor of a typical older (1930s construction? I'm really not sure) Russian apartment building. The place itself is nice, even if you are greeted with the stink of the common areas when you enter the stairwell/entryway (some things in Russia never change). If we get there in time, all those who're attending that session sit together in a circle to introduce themselves and greet one another, and then it's just off to the races, following what I understand is typical to the Montessori method, letting the kids themselves choose what to do and providing guidance once they've chosen. We gather again just at noon, when the teacher tells a little story with figures, which inevitably has some kind of moral lesson (the time there was an obnoxious, bratty boy, whose behavior actually was really surprsing, given how good most of the children are, she told a story about a boy who always was mean to people and animals and got his comeuppance when he offended a hedgehod and learned his lesson that he should be nicer to everyone). And we all say goodbye in a similar way and then begins the process of getting dressed again, with all of those layers and hats and scarves and boots, etc., etc.
The place has four rooms: the main one has all sorts of developmental toys, from puzzles, books, play tables with sand and beans to rake through and pour; there is the "wet zone" with play tables and basins for playing with water; there is the "blowing off steam room" with more playground-type equipment, for physical play; and then there's more of a creative activity room, where I think you can draw or paint -- we haven't really gone in there much yet.
For some reason we seem to start out at the plastic and wooden fruit, often do some work with the sand/bean stations, trying not to make that much of a mess to clean, spend some time in the "blow off steam" room, and sometimes get preoccupied with the shiny marbles and colorful, flat stones in one of the rooms. This last Thursday was our first real foray into the water room, where we got wet enough to resort to our change of clothes before leaving. The sponge, and all of its properties of gathering and releasing water, made a real hit.
The Pink Elephant has been so inspiring, I have us set to try out a second local preschool on Friday.
The After-CLO
I'm getting out more myself, too. Something about the process of thinking through what we should do next, together with the fact that there is now an increasingly close end-date of our life in Vlad, has me fighting inertia more and getting out and doing things.
I've now been twice to the Sarasvati Yoga Center -- apparently the only one (only dedicated center -- in its own freestanding structure, no less! -- devoted to yoga and only to yoga) in Vlad, although yoga classes are given in various settings around town. This place is actually for me a fascinating mix of The Familiar and The Alien. In some ways it is so very much like the (very few) yoga places I've experienced outside Russia, in the level of informality, the serious dedication to yoga, yet the mix of sports-minded and more consciousness/Eastern-spiritual perspective on yoga. But the funny thing to me is the way the women (so far all the clientele I've seen are women) are just so very Russian in the end. For starters, they all wear makeup. And I guess, for whatever reason, Russians can't imagine going out in town wearing exercise clothes -- it isn't really something I ever thought about, but now that I do, I realize you really don't ever see anyone dressed in obvious exercise clothes outside. So, for yoga, everyone wears their street clothes and changes there. I guess that is part of the reason that all of them also wear surprisingly nice undies and bras, too -- as usual, in Russia, although this time in a new and different way, I feel soooo very un-zhenskii. And finally (I've only been there twice so far; I'm sure I'll come up with more as time goes by), instructor and students alike had no problem sitting down together right after class last Saturday with a big chocolate cake, tea, and champagne to celebrate March 8, International Women's Day, together. This was very nice for me, since they were so welcoming to a newcomer, insisting that I take off my already-donned coat and scarf and join them, yet also for me so curious, since I can't imagine anyone at my old yoga center in DC doing anything of the sort.
The yoga taught there is primarily Iyengar, which is different from the Ashtanga I've done, but still very enjoyable. It's great to get out and see other people, to participate in a class. Iyengar, at least in the way they're teaching it at this place, involves much less intense movement with breath (the "flow" of the style with that name, which I understand is like Ashtanga), and much more attention to individual poses and one's stance and the placement of nearly every single muscle and body part, and how they should be tensed or relaxed or stretched or pointed within a pose. It feels like a good slow, concentrated effort, and it complements nicely any of the more athletic Ashtanga I'm able to fit in at home over the week (which inevitably is unfortunately rushed and/or abbreviated, and done with the aid of either my own memory or an audio recording only, so my attention to each pose is inevitably rushed and more superficial). And, yet again, just like the preschools, this is proving a great way to practice and broaden my Russian: I come home each time and have a handful of anatomical words to look up and/or confirm that understood correctly in class, such as coccyx, shoulder blades, kneecaps, groin, and spinal column.
Exploring More Primorye
We took a ferry ride with friends across the Peter the Great Bay this weekend, for an overnight stay in Slavyanka, and had a surprisingly good time just seeing a new place, hanging out, and enjoying spending time with a fun, well-behaved Anya. In fact, it went so well that we're reminded of how, especially now that spring is really sproinging, we need to get out and explore more, whether on day trips or again staying the night on the road.
It's hard to describe what was good about this trip: it isn't as though Slavyanka has much to offer, really. Our New Zealander friend, a longtime resident of Vlad, suggested that taking the ferry across the bay while the ice was still present was an experience not to be missed, so we agreed to travel as walk-ons on the Saturday evening ferry from Vlad and return on the Sunday afternoon ferry (the only options on offer), for a trip that has us gone from home a little less than 24 hours in all.
It went appropriately not-as-expected in several ways. Anya was great, and our apprehension about travel with her was allayed. After the trouble with sleep in South Africa, we were wary of what might happen in a strange hotel room. And even despite this (and the hotel's lack of a crib), we decided to travel light and not bring our portable crib. But the kid did great, going right to sleep on the bedspread bordered by pillows that Dan set up for her next to our bed when we laid her down at 10, and waking up only at about 7:30.
The hotel (the "best in the town" according to our taxi driver) was pretty good, all things considered, but since we chose to travel on International Women's Day, the cafe downstairs was fully booked and rocking out when we checked in at about 9:30. But we were able to order food (from some skeptical waitresses) up to the hallway outside our rooms on the third floor, where the 5 adults in our group sat around a low table and enjoyed surprisingly good salads and starters, pork chops smothered in cheese and mayonnaise (hey, we've lived here a year and a half -- some things you just get used to) and scallops. On Sunday morning, three (and a half) of us set out to explore the town on foot, and finally found the closest thing possible to the joke fantasia that was spun out the night before about a now settled itinerant Frenchman, an espresso machine and some expertly made pastries. There was no Pierre in sight, but the Buffet "Tranzit" was nothing like what the name may call to mind. It was clean and sunny, with an unexplained American-themed decor, complete with cheesy Route 66 pictures and a photo poster of a double-decker sightseeing Big Apple tour bus on the streets of New York. The pastries were actually quite good (OK, not French, but surprisingly good), and there was even real brewed coffee, even if we were charged a dollar for about 2 ounces of it.
And when we met up with our New Zealand-Russian pair and their 2 kids, we made a post-breakfast tour of Slavyanka and surroundings, care of our previous night's taxi driver's colleague with a minivan. His vehicle did yeoman's service on a couple of muddy inclines and a dusty climb to the top of the local hill, during which our Kiwi friend recited some kind of antipodean mantra to ward off the possibility that our vehicle might roll sideways. The pictures (which really do give the sense of what a non-destination Slavyanka was -- it really was about getting out, exploring, and enjoying each other's company and the beautiful weather, complete with temperatures above 10 degrees C) are on Flickr, as usual.
And in other news...
Things We Learned In South Africa and Haven't Unlearned
A call and response number that goes like this:
Anya: "Tapp!" ("Chop!" from the Nigerian hip-hop song whose refrains asks...)
Mom or Dad: "Whatch'ou wann chop?!"
Anya: "Pah-tah!" ("Small stout!," an adaptation of the response in the song, a baby voice that says "I wann' drink small stout!")
Well, you probably had to be there, or at least have to listen to the song yourself to understand the humor...
What we're listening to:
the new Bettie Serveert, Bare Stripped Naked
more Feist
The Pretenders greatest hits (especially my favorites, Kid and Talk of the Town)
Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
What we're saying:
O-key!
U'-oh! and Uups!
Hah-reh! = hooray!
tikka = kitty-cat (also kissa = kittycat in Russian) Both variants followed by squeals and giggles of delight, and, if the cats are unlucky, various attempts to pet or scare them.
shi' = shirt
patt = pants
tait-ss = tights
boo-tay, boo-day = for some unexplained reason, mittens
pato = sweater
bah-koo = buckle
sjak, hyak = sock
yek = light
dahk = dark
bikk/bekk = 1. milk, 2. book
Tatti = Charlie (son of a friend, whose photo sits by the highchair and therefore is very familiar now)
Maya = Mara (family photos also sit nearby)
da-dya = all men who are not daddy, including Grandpas and Great-Grandpas ("Dyadya" does have that meaning in Russian, when it doesn't mean "uncle.")
Ghamma = grandma
Nongo = Noriko, our neighbor
Ngimmi = Jimmy, Noriko's son
yammi/nammi = yummy
yakki = yucky
gabig, kabig = garbage
doo-dats = dirty
koht = cold (Cf. aisseee)
haht = hot
kavvi = coffee (and sometimes cough)
oon = orange
tu-tu-tu = Cheerio
deppi = dipping sauce
hman = pen
hmoon = spoon
man-key/bah-kki = monkey
boii = boy
rou = loud
kah, kau = car (tends to rhyme with "rou")
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)