Beautiful People

Over this month, I have decided to share the stories of the interesting, diverse, and beautiful (inside and outside) people I have met. I have finally, at last, gotten around to writing it. Of course, there are many others on the list of Adygeya's cast of characters, but these people particularly stand out in my mind;  they have defined my experience here so far.

SUSANNA RASHIDOVNA. 
She is the chair of the English department and one of the younger faculty members, in her early thirties, the same age as one of my sisters. She also has two children, about the same age as my nephews. Susanna Rashidovna is the daughter of the University Rektor (or head, president), and married to a Russian man, which is unusual for an Adyghe woman. She also has a very unique fashion sense... both elegant and creative. Some have mentioned that she dresses more like someone from America or Western Europe than Russia. She has come to work in cowboy boots, an outfit that featured a Mexican-style poncho, and a kimono (not all on the same day, obviously). Her hair is cut just above the shoulder, which is also unusual here; most girls grow their hair very long.
As unusual as Susanna may be, this does certainly not make her less of an Adygeika. She, like many others, is fluent in the Adyghe language, knows many of their national songs, and has close connections with locally famous musicians like Aslan Tlebzu and Tamara Nekhai (more about them later). In addition to Russian and Adyghe, Susanna speaks English, French, and German, and has been learning some Spanish.. she has even written her own songs in Spanish, English, and French. Recently, at a talent show for the Foreign Languages Department, I performed a folk song that she re-wrote and translated.... Si Qasei, a very old Adyghe song that she had remixed into a European-style song and translated a few of the verses into English. She wishes to make this song enter the Eurovision contest someday. We'll see.
When I first arrived here, I was afraid that I would not have any "mother figure" or guiding colleague like I had with Svetlana in Chelyabinsk. I was wrong... the whole faculty has been there to help me and explain to me. Susanna Rashidovna has felt like an older sister, in a way. She has provided for me many opportunities to do things that I had dreamed of doing here, but never imagined I'd have the time or the chance to do. Already, I have sung in a talent show and in a restaurant in Adyghe, met the local musicians I have been listening to for years, given an interview for the television, and recorded a song in Kabardian. All of this she has made possible.

ASLAN TLEBZU AND TAMARA NEKHAI. 
These are the two local celebrities I have met. They actually turned out not to be real "celebrities" in the Hollywood sense... I thought they were famous throughout all of Russia, but I guess they are only well known in the North Caucasus or among people who listen to Caucasian music. Aslan Tlebzu is an accordion player whose most famous song is Chernye Glaza, a song that was overplayed on all of Russian radio, I think around 2005. Now, he has his own record label, Tlebzu Records, and I had the opportunity to sing in his studio a few weeks ago. As predictable, Tlebzu has deviated considerably from the usual Caucasian sound and focuses on recording more "mainstream" genres, but not to the extent that he has forgotten his roots completely (looking at you, rock band from Ingushetia who shall not be named!) Meeting Aslan Tlebzu, you would never realize that he was a mega-hit in the Russian pop scene... he is short, shy and reserved, unassuming and very non-pretentious. He was nice to me, but didn't really seem to understand why I was so star-struck at first.
Tamara Nekhai has arguably the most beautiful voice in the Caucasus. I have recently posted a video clip of her music. A natural soprano, Nekhai sings almost exclusively traditional Adyghe folk songs. She was very blunt and opinionated about the changing of music styles, how American influences have penetrated music too much and have made music from other countries sound like bland pop music. When Susanna Rashidovna showed her some of the remixes and songs that she made, Nekhai was rather critical. She also seemed unimpressed when I sang for her the first time, our English-Adyghe song, saying that I had a good, clear voice and good pronunciation, but that I was clearly "not a singer." Her opinion changed, though, when I sang the Kabardian song which had a melody and key more suitable for my voice. Tamara Nekhai struck me as an intelligent woman, opinionated, not ready to sugar-coat anything for anyone when it comes to music- someone who is very much needed in today's globalized, American pop-dominated world.

AZA PETROVNA.
Everyone knows I love languages- but if there is a lover of all things linguistic, it is Aza Petrovna. To the students, she is the oldest, strictest, and probably the most feared teacher in the English faculty. To me, and to the rest of the faculty, she is a wise, remarkable, and interesting woman. In her early seventies, Aza Petrovna also has a healthy lifestyle, enjoying early morning walks in the fresh air and rarely eating sweets. Although she is an ethnic Russian, her first name is of either Adyghe or Arabic origin. Aza Petrovna will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about the history of all Germanic languages, Russian language (she can read pre-Revolutionary Russian with no problem, and can even read Old English) and even Caucasian languages. She has studied Adyghe and Abkhaz, even if others might tell her that it is not practical. While languages and linguistic history might not be all so interesting to everyone, Aza Petrovna's life passion shows an important example of not merely cross-cultural tolerance between Russians and Caucasians, but a genuinely pursued interest- a solid ground for mutual understanding.

THE KARDANOV FAMILY.
In one of my first classes at the university, back in October, a very tall, dark, and handsome, what I assumed to be graduate student wanting to practice English sat down in the classroom and watched me silently. It turned out that he didn't speak a word of English, not even enough to tell me his name. His friend Nart introduced him, said his name was Timur, from the nearby Republic of Karachaievo-Cherkessia, and to my surprise, was a first-year student and only 18 years old. The following weekend, I organized an outing in the park with some students to tell Halloween stories in English. Surprisingly, Timur also came, even though he didn't understand anything. After the others left, he stayed in the park to tell me (in Russian) the stories of Sousruko, Satanai, and the Narts (Adyghe, Caucasian legends). We rode the marshrutka home together as we turned out to be neighbors, living in the same dormitory. On this day, we agreed to help each other. I would give him private lessons in English, and in return, he would teach me Kabardian, his dialect of Circassian. We also developed our own project- a speech on the need for English language instruction in the North Caucasus- Timur being from an aul, where the English instruction in schools is next to nothing. Over time, we have become close friends, going hiking together in Hadzhokh, and working on our projects. He has also been around to help me with things, and be sort of a protective male figure that young women in the Caucasus are thought to need. (WHERE is this kind of chivalry in the US?) He has also told me of his dreams to make a living for himself in America, where he wishes to open a business, "Something related to the Caucasus... either a restaurant, or clothing store, or teaching our national dances...some way to show Americans who we are, and to somehow make money."
Now, I have also gotten to know his family. His sister, Marina, has recently moved to Maykop to find a job as a waitress, after two years of sitting at home back in Cherkessk with no employment to show for her hard-earned law diploma from Krasnodar. Marina and I also came to be good friends, as during her first week here, she lived on my floor of the dormitory. Together, the three of us talked on a wide range of subjects, in Russian and Kabardian: Food, the Caucasus, the end of the world, black holes, dark matter and anti-matter, parallel universes, Barack Obama, wine making, and how she wishes to be a film critic. It was sad when she had to move out- this dormitory is reserved for students and faculty and staff in the University.
For New Years, I am invited to go with Timur to stay with his family. Then, I will finally be able to meet their mother, Zarema. A single Kabardian mother, separated from her Georgian husband, Zarema has not had an easy life. She raised three children in a village in Khabez district outside of Cherkessk,where there is very little economic opportunity. She now works as a journalist- a risky occupation in this region, especially for a woman- and as a teacher of her native language (which she plans on helping me with). So far, I have only talked to Zarema on the phone, but she is really eager to meet me as well.
Both Zarema and Marina have high hopes for Timur, that he may move as soon as he can to America and find himself a living there. They know of his business ideas, but they really wish for him to go into acting or modeling. I don't want to say that getting such a visa or permanent residence is impossible, as these are my friends and I care a lot about them- but it is VERY unlikely and would take a LOT of hard work. Having a great personality and strikingly good looks can help you in some ways, but in the cruel world of bureaucracy, it does nothing in the way of getting you visas.

NATASHA.
Natasha is a arguably my best student. I am afraid to admit it, but she may be more well read in English literature than I am,. In a country where most students do minimum work to get by, Natasha puts her heart and soul into everything English and American related. In one class, students were to present on a US state of their choice and identify a famous tourist location they would like to visit. It was a very simple assignment, although most students either "forgot" or just printed something off Wikipedia. Not Natasha. She prepared a whole powerpoint presentation not on one state, but the many states all along America's historic Route 66.
I am not just praising Natasha for being a perfect student nor do I see her as a "brown noser" or "teacher's pet". My classes are ungraded (in Russia, this means: optional). From Natasha, I see a genuine interest. It really touches my heart to see someone, who, through her studies, has reached beyond the glamour and money and commercial image of America- and seemed to really develop an appreciation for the real America. Good work, Natasha.
What's more, is she pretty much saved the day on the Victorian Era event I was in charge of. I was afraid the students would have nothing to contribute because of such short notice, but Natasha pulled through with two presentations and organizing the other students into their own Victorian romance-style skit. Again, good work, Natasha. You didn't even have to do all this.

NART AND SATANAY. 
As I may have mentioned, most Adyghe people do not live in the Caucasus. The Circassian diaspora lives mainly in Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Israel, the Emirates, and oddly enough, New Jersey.
Recently, though, the Russian government as agreed to gradually allow some ethnic Circassians return to their homeland. Two of my students are ethnic Circassians from Syria. Especially in light of the recent turmoil in Syria, many Circassians have tried to find any possible way to flee to Adygeya- including these two students, Nart and Satanay.
First, a bit about their names. As I have said, we have many guys named Nart. It's a very popular name here. This particular Nart, we call Nartik- a diminutive, even though he is bigger and older than our other close friend Nart (Nart is 17, Nartik is 24). "Nart" means basically "mountain giant," many Adyghe legends are about various Narts. The most famous of which is Sousruko (a popular boys' name in Nalchik), a Prometheus-type hero who gave fire to man, among other things. Sousruko's mother was the beautiful Satanay- the name of the other Syrian Adyghe student.
Nartik, I have gotten to know through our dance recitals. He has a very friendly, laid back personality- but it is hard to find a common language. He speaks mainly Arabic, not Russian. To each other, we speak a mix of broken English, Russian, and Circassian.
Satanay also doesn't speak much Russian, but her English is good. She is trying to apply to some schools in America where she has relatives. Another interesting thing is she is one of only two Adyghe girls in the University who wear the hejab. She grew up in a mainly Muslim country where Arab traditions dominate the comparatively liberal Circassian traditions.

YOGA BABUSHKA. 
On most days, I start my classes in the afternoon, so I use the mornings to do my running. Once again, I luck out by having a place to run right across the street. The Ippodrom is a dirt track for horse racing, but since only once have I actually seen horses there, it's pretty much just a place for walkers or runners- few that there may be. It may seem boring to run around in circles every morning, but it is actually very beautiful. When the sky is clear, I can see the high peaks of the Caucasus, long since covered in snow.
In general, people in Russia recognize their country's cold climate, and dress accordingly. They fear the slightest hint of a cool draft reaching one's skin, and fear it will cause instant sickness. In fact, as soon as leaves start falling from the trees, children are already bundled up in clothes we usually reserve for a day on the slopes. The most strict adherents to this rule? Babushkas. Except one.
Several mornings in a row, I saw a Babushka doing yoga in only a leotard and a sports bra. After seeing me run for the third or fourth day in a row, she congratulated me on having such a healthy lifestyle, and that because of it, I would always look young.
She looked about sixty, but it turned out she was in her mid seventies. After a bit of conversation, I found out that she had lived in Barcelona and knew some Spanish. I have seen her a few more times since that day, always doing her yoga and some other exercises. We always make sure to greet each other with "Buenos dias!" each time. I guess, maybe being a bit under-dressed and allowing yourself to feel a bit of the brisk, mountain morning air can be good for the body and mind, and not cause immediate meningitis after all.

IRINA. 
A few weeks back, I started what would have been my well-paid work at a snazzy language school called Mr. Language. Unfortunately, because of my type of visa, I am not actually allowed to work there. If the Migration Services found out, I could be deported. They tried to convince me to work "under the table", but I decided I was not ready to play at that level of bending the rules. In this case, it is better to be safe than sorry. Afer the one evening class of my short Mr. Language stint, I went for coffee with one of the directors, Irina.
Irina is an example of a Russian woman who strongly warns me about "the dangers of Caucasian men." Her words- that the local men will never value women of another nationality, that any sweet words they say are a trick, that Russian or foreign women will only be something to have fun with and that they always end up marrying "their own"- left no room for argument, she spoke them as if they were a rule set in stone. A Western woman, according to Irina, should never even consider having a serious relationship with a non-Western man. The very idea was a taboo to her, even as it concerned Russian men.
She herself is divorced, and now unsatisfied with even the idea of marriage. She has a lover/boyfriend from Italy who she sees every few months. This arrangement was what she was happy with- no commitments, no stress, more independence.
As for me, I understand her mentality and respect her opinion, and I am glad that she found herself satisfied in her current situation, but I did not really like how she did not leave any room to disagree. Does the West always have to be the answer, even in love and romance?
In general, I know she means well, but people like Irina often rub me the wrong way in how the underestimate my ability to adjust. This attitude came across in other contexts as well in our conversation- as if, because I happen to be an American, I automatically come with a set of mentalities and needs that make the Caucasus a hostile, uncomfortable, and awkward place to live. I couldn't disagree more, however respectfully.

AMINET.
Besides Satanay, there is one other Adyghe girl who wears Islamic dress. Let's call her Aminet (this is not her real name). Aminet stays completely covered, from head to toe, revealing only her face. Her Islamic dress though does not strike me as a symbol of oppression- on the contrary, it is something beautiful, that she has made all her own. Tall and beautiful, Aminet's choice of Islamic clothing is very stylish, creative, and well put-together, with matching or carefully coordinated long dresses and head covering of varying colors and designs.
Aminet's English is pretty much perfect, except when she confuses it with Arabic. She had lived for several years in Saudi Arabia, where she married and had two children. She returned to Adygeya, she told me, to complete her education and to "correct her mistakes." I have since wondered what she means by that. She hopes to invite me to her family's aul for a weekend, high in the mountains, but has not been able to because of the repairs they are doing in her home. Maybe sometime in the spring we'll go.

KHAVA.
I know I keep commenting over and over again that the people here are so beautiful, but I am not exaggerating. The population is generally very physically attractive, in a natural, not plastic or overly made-up way. Khava, a beautiful girl with brown hair and green eyes, is a fifth-year student from the Republic of Ingushetia. Located between Chechnya and North Ossetia, Ingushetia is generally agreed to be the poorest and most dangerous region of Russia. They have conflicts on all borders: With the breakaway South Ossetia and Georgia, with the remainders of Chechen spillover from the wars, and with an ongoing ethnic hostility with North Ossetia.
This is not what we talked about when she came over to visit yesterday. We shared a lot more in common when it comes to music, both agreeing that our favorite Ingush band really sold out when they gave up their uniquely Caucasian sound and really went out of their way to hide their roots in order to become popular in Moscow. Their new music is hardly distinguishable from Russian pop, and features almost-naked models in their music videos (for that reason, they are no longer invited to perform in Ingushetia). We listen to their old songs, however, some of which have really funny lyrics that sent us literally rolling on the floor laughing.
Another thing I love about Khava is that she does not hesitate when it comes to food. In most places in Russia, girls eat next to nothing in order to be thin. Russia is not the place for anyone who has body image issues. I had heard people back in Chelyabinsk say things like "Oh, I have eaten so much, as if I have already found a husband!" or, "All I need to eat is apples and kefir. Anything else will make me fat!" Russian men have also bought into this image (many of them being just as skinny themselves), saying things like "A young woman must be thin. I would take anything but a fat girl!"
Khava herself has a slender figure, similar to mine if not thinner. But she still loves to eat. She joked to me (in response to the popular Russian "don't eat after 6pm" diet): "Oh yes, of course, you should never eat after 6! But after 7, you can eat everything!"
Adygeya does have a lot of slender women, but here, thinness is not nearly to the extent of other regions in Russia, where my massive 55 kilograms seems too much. There are just as many voluptuous women as there are skinny women. Caucasian men do not share the same opinion as Russian men. Timur said once, that "it is much better to... have something, than to have nothing at all. Skinny women are not attractive."

So, there you have it, a look at some of the people I have met. I am often asked if I am bored here, because Maykop is such a small city. I say to them, of course I am not bored, and the people described above are the reason why.

Epic Mountain of Tongues

Today is Saturday. It's been the first day here I've really taken for myself to rest, clean, and be productive with my own work... all other days have been pretty full, in a good way, making the most of everything, Kavkaz-style. This week in particular was busy, because of a few special events. Halloween was last Wednesday, although our celebration and costume contest was Thursday. (In the Caucasus, for some reason, Halloween is thought to be on November 1st, not October 31st. Fine with me, it gave me an extra day). For the classes leading up to Halloween, I assigned to the students a selection of scary stories and urban legends I had grown up with, which they were to retell and discuss in English. After classes, the students participated in a costume contest (the winners? Someone dressed as some kind of zombie/doctor, with a very real looking fake eyeball falling out of its socket.... and two guys...Islam and one of the three Narts... dressed as pretty good vampires) and a contest of "frighting food" (winner: biscuits made to look like  bloody fingers.) At the end, I told the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which I affirmed that all Americans should be familiar with. This prompted a lengthy discussion with one of the Narts about headless horsemen and Circassian giants.
After the Halloween events, some student-friends and I all went to the university's KVN performance. KVN is a kind of student comedy competition that is held throughout all of Russia. I've seen some comedy skits on Youtube, but never live. It takes a very high level of a foreign language to understand their humor though, so I probably only "got" about 60% of the jokes (those that were not in Adyghe). The funniest, or perhaps the easiest for me to understand, were those where Caucasians make fun of their own stereotypes... where an awkward young girl is courted by an even more awkward young man in a cherkeska, leading (of course) to a bride kidnapping and something to do with a goat. The winners of the contest got free... water bottles.

The students were definitely interested in the gruesome side of Halloween.

A few days before that, Tuesday actually, I had predicted to be a rather boring, uneventful day. I was wrong. The one class I had was canceled, because of a concert with Aslan Gotov, an Adyghe pianist who now lives in Canada. Not only was Gotov himself awesome...but also performing were TAMARA NEKHAI AND ASLAN TLEBZU. If you know me, or if you know Adygeya...these are really important people in the North Caucasian music scene. Much moreso than Bishtov or Dzybov I'd say. Aslan Tlebzu is the accordion player in the classic song "Chernye Glaza", and is famous for several Lezginkas... and I actually got the chance to go up and talk to him!! Unfortunately, I was so star-struck that my Russian just kind of fell apart. Let alone my pre-elementary level Adyghe. He seemed pretty nice, though. Tamara Nekhai sings ancient Adyghe and Kabardian folk songs... and sang the most beautiful one of all at this very concert.
Leave it to Tamara Nekhai's voice to make the harsh Adyghe language sound absolutely beautiful.
On a side note... Aslan Tlebzu is SHORT.

While this day and Halloween might not be typical days... even the typical days here are pretty full and busy. On a typical day, I would wake up (usually not too early), go for a run around the stadium, shower and eat breakfast, get ready for class, go to a faculty meeting, have two classes, then go for a few hours to dance rehearsal with the students I've already become good friends with: Elmira, Roza, Bella, Leila, Rustem, Kazbek, Timur, and two Narts.
...It is worth the digression to comment about how much more interesting the names here are from the rest of Russia, especially the men. They are not all named Sasha or Misha or Dima here. I have three (or now four?) students with the name Nart, two who are in the same class, and one whose last name is Bogus.
Nart Bogus.
The name "Nart" basically means "giant". According to Adyghe legends, the Narts were heroes who lived in the mountains thousands of years ago. The most famous Nart was Sousruko, who was born out of a stone and grew taller every hour. The only even more awesome name among my students is Djambulat Kavkazovitch... whose name literally means "Djambulat, son of Caucasus." He looks like his name, too.

Anyways, the dance rehearsals are always a fun way to end the day at the university. Their dancing is beautiful (it is a slower dance from ancient Kabardian royalty, called the k'afe) and mine is making progress. At the end, they play something random, like a Chechen lezginka or techno or rap, and everybody breaks into whatever moves they feel like.

In the evenings, I meet with Timur, who came straight from an aul in Karachai-Cherkessia. His English is very poor, because the school in the aul did not really have the same kind of English classes the other students had. I can't really give students private tutoring for free (I absolutely would not have the time for that), so we agreed that in return he would teach me Kabardian language.
Although we probably make this too time consuming for weeknights, it's been enjoyable and definitely worth it. Timur has become a close friend, ready to help me in a lot of ways... and Kabardin language... well... it is certainly... something.
Try to pronounce the number fourteen, for example: пщ1ык1упл1.
If you're not a Cyrillic-reader.... I honestly don't even know how to transliterate that. You just have to hear it.

Kabardian is actually the least complicated dialect of Adyghe. The Adyghe dialect that most of the locals here speak has 60 consonants... Kabardian has only 48.

For the remainder of today's blog post, I decided to give a runthrough of the languages of the North Caucasus....as fast and as clear as possible.

First, there are at least four or five different major language FAMILIES here, two of which are really not related to anything at all. The local languages are all very complicated, with a lot of different consonant sounds that some might not even think sound human. There are some languages with hundreds of verb declensions and noun cases. There are some languages that are spoken in only two villages, and are not understood by another village a mile across the river.
At least everyone understands Russian.

So here is a breakdown of the Epic Mountain of Tongues, from what I know, along with some Youtube videos so you can hear what they sound like:

INDO-EUROPEAN languages: Ossetian, spoken in North and South Ossetia.

TURKIC languages: Karachai and Balkar, which are basically the same thing, spoken in Karachai-Cherkessia and Kabardino-Balkaria (basically, around Mt. Elbrus), Nogai and Kumyk, spoken in Dagestan.

NORTHWEST CAUCASIAN languages: Abkhaz, Abaza, and Circassian. Abkhaz is spoken in Abkhazia, Abaza is spoken by a minority ethnicity in Karachai-Cherkessia (a people, who according to Timur, have beautiful red-haired children). Circassian (Adyghe being the ethnonym) originally had twelve dialects from the twelve Adyghe tribes (each of the stars on the flag of Adyghe Republic)... now it is divided into West Circassian (Adyghe, spoken in Adygeya) and Kabardian (spoken in Karachai-Cherkessia and Kabardino-Balkaria). Except... some people in Adygeya still do not understand their nextdoor neighbors' dialects, and, according to Timur, the people in his region (Habez, Karachai-Cherkessia) speak the Zelenchuk dialect of Kabardian, which is different than what is spoken by people in Nalchik.
Oh, and everyone's dialect is agglutinative with a million consonants.

Tamara Nekhai's beautiful Adyghe (West Circassian) songs.

Magamed Dzybov in Adyghe, this song being "the most Caucasian song ever"

Kabardian. This is the language I am learning:

NORTHEAST CAUCASIAN languages: They are broken down into further categories.
The Nakh languages, Chechen and Ingush. Probably the most "easy" to understand, at least for me. Хьа хаза лаьмни йо1 ю со, Нохчийчоь...))
The Dagestani languages.
Dagestan is one republic with over 30 recognized, separate languages. Among them: Avar, Lezgin, Dargin, Tsakhur, Tabasaran, Rutul, Lak... and of course, their mutually-not-intelligible, village-separated sub-dialects. This isn't even counting the Chechen and Azeri minorities that live there, and the Turkic languages Kumyk and Nogai.

Chechen: Со ву нохчи лаьмни к1ант, So vu noxchi lamni k'ant, "I'm a Chechen mountain man"

Avar:

Dargin:

Tabasaran:

It is true that there is a problem with many younger people not using their native language and just speaking Russian, but it is still a good thing that all these people have Russian to use to communicate with everyone else.

Of all the languages that I mentioned, I honestly have at multiple songs in my iTunes library in each.

Cultural Expectations and Mirror Images

I have been here in Adygeya for over a week. It's been an eventful week... fun, for the most part, and interesting, and also somewhat exhausting. I was never really jetlagged, and I haven't even started my running again yet (that is scheduled for tomorrow, 7:30 am); it's only that every day seems so... full.

Also, this dormitory requires some getting used to. My doorlocks have a tendency to try to eat the keys that lock them. The stove mysteriously turns on after I turn it off. The light sockets destroy lightbulbs within two days. Fire alarms go off in the middle of the night, one of which lasted for over an hour and caused someone to run to the ground floor completely naked. I live on the ninth floor (which I appear to have entirely to myself), but the elevator is terrifying. Twice this week it actually broke, and, having somewhat of a fear of elevators and having already been in a broken elevator three times in my life, I avoid it whenever I can. Last time I took the elevator, it stopped at a floor but refused to open it's doors, and a large Chechen seventh-floor neighbor had to kick it open.

Ahh, yes. My neighbors. The seventh and eighth floors of the building seem to be entirely Chechen. I know this, because I recognize the Chechen language and their particular clothing style. For the most part, they don't bother anyone (not that anyone should think they would!) but a lot of their men seem to like to blast music from their rooms and dance Lezginka late into the night, and blast more music from their cars, while playing some kind of invented game, which from what I gather, involves driving a car as fast as possible around the courtyard, screeching to a stop, getting out of the car to wrestle someone, screaming something in  Chechen, and allowing the next... contestant to jump from an above window and repeat the process. It's both annoying and entertaining. The dormitory, which I affectionately refer to as "Little Grozny", is growing on me.

This brings me to my main thought: Stereotypes, or rather, cultural "expectations." I am not referring to often-false assumptions about someone from another place (actual stereotypes), but rather what someone hopes another to be, or how someone wants to see someone else from another culture act like. All right, enough pronouns, I will be more specific, starting with myself.

It is no secret to those who know me that I love, or at least am fascinated with, everything to do with the Caucasus. It is a politically, culturally, and linguistically complex (read: unfathomable) region which makes it interesting academically speaking... and I say with complete honesty that I enjoy, from the bottom of my heart, Lezginka, xinkali, shashlik, Kindzmarauli, cherkesski, Azamat Bishtov, Nalmes, Islamei, LKN, Tamara Nakhai, Ossetian pies, and, obviously, ridiculously enormous mountains. This being said, a number of those things (some more than others and certainly not all) are considered base, lowest-common-denominator, "kitsch" to many.

Last Sunday, while meeting with my old friends at cafe Te Tiy (Adyghe for "Our house"), I expressed my disappointment of having missed Adyghe Republic Day, which was exactly the day before I arrived. This festival was to feature almost all of the above things I mentioned. My friends responded that no actual local ever attends this festival, that they all run home to the auls to get away from it. I wondered why. In Chelyabinsk, the City Day was attended by everyone I knew. When traditional Adyghe music started to play at the restaurant, I asked one of my friends to tell what the songs were about. She slightly rolled her eyes and said something along the lines of "Oh, you know, it's about a boy meeting a girl and well, about the same as any other song." Later that evening, some young men started to dance Lezginka out on the main square, and all my friends advised me to stay away from these people. Apparently, this kind of act is NOT normal; the dance is reserved for actual festivities.

I had a sense that my eagerness to interact with all things "Caucasian" came across as annoying, stereotyping, and/or insincere. No one said anything to suggest this; it is just a self-conscious feeling I have.

In contrast, new students and faculty I have met seem more than willing to share with me everything of "Adyghe culture." A second-year student of mine, a Kabardian girl named Roza, went with me to a concert (which had advertised with flashy signs all over the city saying "Kavkaz! Mega-hits!") of all the music I like and my other friends apparently can't stand: Magamed Dzybov, Anzhelika Nachesova, Murat Tkhagalegov... a lot of what plays out of whatever car I drive at home in the summer. I loved the concert, apart from a few sound technicalities. Today, I attended a concert with a schoolteacher in the daytime that featured Ensemble Oshten, a group of young singers who put Adyghe lyrics to electric guitar music. I also thought this was awesome, especially when in the audience a Georgian danced with an Armenian (both students of the teacher I was with and both guys) a Chechen dance to the Adyghe music.
In addition, there are plans to attend with a friend of Roza's a lesson on Caucasian dancing, as well as more plans to go to the Republic's famous scenic places Xadzhokh and Lagonaki.

I appreciate these opportunities, and I hope that my interest comes across as sincere, and not just merely because everything is "exotic."

I mention this, because these kind of cultural "expectations" come up very often as an American English teacher. For many students, I am the only native English speaker, and therefore the only American, that they have ever met. Naturally, these students would want to ask me about typically (sometimes stereotypically) "American" things. My favorite/least favorite question I was asked last year was, "So, how does our McDonalds compare with the McDonalds in America?" to which I answered, "I could tell you if I had eaten McDonalds in the last ten years!" and lightly laughed. Having a bit of a sensitive streak, I could have easily snapped "Do I LOOK like someone who eats a lot of McDonalds?!" but obviously, one has to hold back and be understanding. In the classroom, I honestly enjoy these kinds of questions. I like how simple stories about my childhood, about road trips on highways, about yellow schoolbuses and Girl Scout Camp, about college parties and internet meme humor are so appreciated by students.
At the same time though, being a "token American" can be very irritating when I step outside the classroom. There are many things that one my associate with America that absolutely do not apply to me. I hate fast food, I'm not usually up on the latest TV shows or movies, I'm not a huge fan of American political influence on other parts of the world, and the majority of my music collection in not American music (I really cannot stand rap, hip-hop, and R&B). Sometimes, for these reasons, I feel like a bit of a disappointment to the people who meet me, like I am not the perfect specimen of American culture they might have hoped for. Even minor things, like my appearance, seem to be disappointing. In reference to my new hair color, one friend said, "I liked the blonde better, we were used to you that way". Another friend, who asserted that she could spot any American in a crowd of hundreds, said that I had "become so Russian, I didn't even recognize you!" in reference I guess to my clothing and mannerisms. Such "changes" may be a concern, that I might be "trying too hard" to blend in with my surroundings and not "be myself", when as a matter of fact, they are just a result of a changing lifestyle and evolving interests. If one grew up with a certain style, but then becomes introduced to another that one likes more, why not simple choose that which one likes best?

Thinking about my friends here, and about this last week, it seems that we are in a way, mirror images of each other. Our friendship started purely out of curiosity and appreciation for the other's culture and nationality. As we find that our "cultural expectations" of the other are not exactly met, we become slightly disappointed. We also tend to have more knowledge about the other's pop culture than about our own, and are a bit bewildered by this fact. True friendship, however, is more than just liking someone because you happen to like where they are from. Hopefully, the matters of Azamat Bishtov and R&B will be something to joke about, as we move on to more important topics in our lives. The fact that we cannot expect and predict what the other feels about a certain topic is interesting, not disappointing or annoying. I will at least think of it as so.

Meanwhile.... the Chechens outside my window live up to every cultural expectation and stereotype. Another car crash accompanied by a Lezginka.

How I got here.

It is a long way to get to the Caucasus.

Yet somehow, after years of unlikely coincidences, unexpected decisions, a few twists of fate,a bit of luck, and a lot of patience... I ended up here, as a foreign language teacher, in a region that is already full of its own languages.

For the next academic year, I will be working in the small southern Russian city of Maykop, Republic of Adygeya, as a teacher of English and Spanish, at Adyghe State University. Adygeya is one of the smallest regions in the Russian Federation, an autonomous ethnic republic with its own President (or Head), at the north-western foothills of the Caucasus Mountains. Unlike the more...shall we say, infamous locations in the North Caucasus, Adygeya is relatively calm and stable and retains a fairly peaceful relationship with Russia.

Even though more than half of the population of Adyghe Republic is actually ethnic Russian, this place immediately feels and looks and sounds different from other parts of the country that I have lived in (I studied in Moscow for one semester in 2009, and the previous academic year I taught English as a Fulbright fellow in Chelyabinsk). Here, there is a different mentality, climate, fashion sense, pace of life, overall appearance of  people and surroundings... and many other differences, that will become more apparent as this year continues. At the far northern and western edge, a long distance from the conflict zones of the region that we hear about in the news, Adygeya is sometimes even excluded when others talk about "The Caucasus". This is deceptive, however, because Adyghe Republic is absolutely, without a doubt, very North Caucasian.

So, how did I get here?
I could talk about how I arrived here by three days of transport, or by six months of bureaucratic processes, or by four years of, well, life's journey. I might as well start at the beginning.

It was August, 2008, and one of those very hot, last few days of freedom before classes would start at Oberlin College, where I studied. I was signed up for a class called "Nationalism and the State in Post Soviet Politics." We were already emailed and asked to read about the then-recent conflict between Georgia and Russia over South Ossetia and Abkhazia. I figured this class was going to be difficult. I decided to read Hadji Murad, a novella by Tolstoy, to get at least some literary background about this area. The story (that first time I read it) was interesting, but confusing for me to say the least. I had of course heard of Chechnya, but had no clue what an Avar or a Lezgin was.

The class that semester was as difficult and confusing as expected. I think I may have only received a B+ in it. By the time it was over, I thought I would be finished with listening to lectures or writing about any Kadyrov, Basayev, Dudayev, Kokoity, Saakashvili, Shevardnadze or any of these cast of characters. I was obviously, very wrong.

The following spring, a friend of my Russian teacher at that time arrived from the Republic of Adygeya to give a presentation about her region. Adygeya seemed stunning, breathtaking... but of course, everyone asked, "Isn't it dangerous?" It was then explained to us that, of course it wasn't, Adygeya was "on the complete opposite side" and "has nothing to do" with conflict zones such as Chechnya.

During the fall semester of 2009, I had studied abroad at the Russian State University for the Humanities in Moscow. My Russian at this time... well, let's say it left much to be desired. Everyone else in the program probably spoke much better. We were all given the opportunity to go travel during our week away from classes, and did not agree on a place to go together... so I decided to visit the teacher, Madina Marzakanovna, in Adygeya.

Thinking she would be very busy, I figured we would meet once and she would point me out some things to do around town. I was very wrong, and experienced what the region is known for... Caucasian hospitality. With Madina, I made two trips to the mountains, got to know some of the foreign language faculty at the university, spoke with some of her students, and out of them, made lasting friendships.

Two years later, I returned to Russia on a Fulbright fellowship to Chelyabinsk. (See, Stories from the South Urals) Naturally, as part of the winter break, I decided to come back to Adygeya for a visit. Through one of the friends who had graduated from Madina's class, I learned that there was a position at the university for the next year to teach English and Spanish, and that they would love to have a native speaker.
So I took the job.

That was the process of deciding to come here came along. Actually getting here was a process in of itself.

In March of this year, I learned that they were ready to hire me. My friend said she was in charge of the documents and that I "wouldn't need to worry." I made the faulty assumption that everything would be done on time. Even so, I asked if I could start getting my documents in order, but I was told it was too early.

At this time, I already had a hurdle to jump... to maneuver around the Chelyabinsk bureaucracy to make sure  I didn't get banned permanently from the country because of an expired registration. As described in the previous blog, I got out of this problem unscathed, with only a relatively small fine and a big scare.

At the beginning of June, I was asked for a copy of my passport, and told that was all that they'd need. I sent it, and the Letter of Invitation (a document needed to obtain a Russian visa) would be ready in 30 days.
(Enter voice of Cenk Uygur) Wrong again, Bob.
A few weeks later, I was told that I'd need to send my diploma (or at least a scanned copy, bringing the original with me) with an Apostille and a certified translation into Russian. Not even knowing what an Apostille was, I panicked. Would they be able to start the Invitation-making process while I figured out how to get these other documents? Of course not! Luckily, my father found a service that could put all these things together online. The documents were sent within the week.

I figured, since the office received what they needed by the end of June, I would get a Letter of Invitation at the end of July, get the visa in August, and be in Adygeya before the beginning of the academic year.
"Wrong again, Bob."

Waiting for the Invitation was a torturous process. Neither I nor my friend knew how the process was going, or if I would be suddenly "rejected." Apparently, the documents I had sent waited for two weeks without anything happening, and the Migration Service took longer than usual to actually process the Invitation. By mid-July, it was finally ready.

Then there was the matter of getting it in the mail. I had recommended DHL, the service most people use to mail items from abroad. The people in the office agreed, and I figured it would be there the next week. Again, wrong.
Two weeks later, I found out that they could not use DHL, because it was too expensive, and they had to choose another service. I finally got the Letter of Invitation on September 13th... only two weeks already late.

The following Monday, I traveled to New York, having already booked a flight (it is required to have proof of a return flight to get a visa), assuming that I could expedite the visa process by paying extra. Guess what...  I was WRONG yet again.
"Invitations with itineraries in the Northern Caucasus region do not qualify for visa expedition, because of security reasons."
Another week and another $300 later, I finally had a visa and a flight.

After all of this hassle, I had the actual journey to look forward to. Everyone knows I love to travel, that is, to be in different places, but the actual traveling part is far from enjoyable. I would be flying from Boston to Munich and then to Moscow, and then by train to Krasnodar (I decided to take the train because it would save me hundreds of dollars and allow me to sleep) and then by some kind of taxi to Maykop. I expected this to be exhausting and stressful... but as a matter of fact, it wasn't. The entire journey went rather smoothly.
During most of the plane ride I slept or watched a movie, and sat next to a girl who was going to a wedding in Croatia. I shared my train compartment with a self-described Cossack Babushka named Raya, who had more than enough advice for me about things such as stockings, boots, fur coats, floor cleaning products,  laundry detergent, and Chechens.
So far, all of these things have become fairly relevant settling in.

Two students and a taxi driver met me at 6 am in Krasnodar to drive me to Maykop, both of the students very eager to use their English. The general consensus was they were surprised and that I was not what they pictured to be an American. I don't look anything like my passport picture they were given to identify me with, I was wearing a skirt and heels, I have dark-colored, no-longer-blonde hair in a typically Russian haircut, I speak Russian pretty much fluently with a неопределённый (basically, non-placeable) accent, I'm slender and petite, and I guess after the three days of traveling, missing the Big American Smile.

Right now, it's been a week since I left the US, but it seems like longer. Not because it's been particularly difficult (apart from some minor inconveniences in my dormitory and some very rowdy neighbors, which I will get to another time), but because SO much has happened. I am now completely settled in, I have seen old friends and met some new ones, made my simple, 9th floor room look beautiful, and started my university classes. After a painfully slow-paced summer full of waiting at my parents' house, I feel like I have settled into my new home in the blink of an eye, and am already witnessing new dimensions of a place that had already become familiar. As soon as I open my window, I know I'm in a different place. I hear Lezginka (the kind of music that, in America, is only heard from the windows of a car that I am driving) from the cars on the street and a room on the floor below, and the sounds of young men yellling accented, colloquial Russian, Adyghe, Chechen and who knows what else.
One thing has already become certain to me... despite what my old friends tell me, who often complain that there is nothing to do in this tiny republic... this place does not seem to have a dull moment.