Indirect
During our Pre-Service Training everyone tried to drill in our heads that this is an indirect culture and people won’t tell you if you are offending them or doing something wrong. I have one response: not true. This is as direct of a culture as I have ever seen one, more direct than anything I have previously experienced. I have been put in my place more times than I can count including the time the Russian lady told me that I needed to be skinny. Indirect? Not so much.
The other day I was sitting on a marshrutka with a box filled with Easter candy (thanks, Mom!) and a heavy bag at my feet. This girl, my age or younger was sitting next to me and another guy was sitting next to her. Let me just say that I am a huge baby about standing on the marshrutka on my ride home. I have had my face in more armpits than I’d like to count and having it pressed against the glass isn’t a pleasant alternative. With that said, this grandma approached us and as I’m waiting for the girl next to me to give her seat up, I’m sending a few nasty looks her way until the guy finally stands up. The grandma looked at both the girl and me and said, “and you are both younger than he is and you didn’t even think to give your seats up, you should be ashamed of yourselves.” I gave a feeble, “I don’t speak Russian, look at this heavy box on my lap” whimpering look but she didn’t seem to accept that as a good enough explanation.
Another time, back in December, Tana and I were waiting for the rest of our group to show up at the ballet, we were all going to see the Nutcracker. We had stopped and sat on the ledge for about .5 seconds when this man came up behind us and scolded us for sitting on the cement (the common legend here is that if a girl sits down on the cold ground then her ovaries will freeze). This is when our Russian skills were even worse than they are now so we didn’t quite understand what he was getting at until he started to motion towards us like he was about to push us. We quickly got the point after that.
Women and my sisters in particular always nag me to wear make-up and do my hair. It mostly comes down to me being lazy and not wanting to put the time and effort into looking decent. Like college, only worse. Seeing pictures of me really drives the point home when they see my long hair and made-up face. Half the time people don’t even realize it’s me. Am I really that hideous??
Practically every time someone figures out that I am an American they quickly bombard me with questions. I have finally gotten used to the, “which is better, here or there?” question and have a pretty standard, diplomatic answer, “it’s not better here, it’s not better there, it’s just different”. The other two most common questions (simultaneously) are, ‘How old are you?’ and ‘Are you Married?’ The minute “22 and no” escapes my mouth they are already telling me that I’m old and that I should be married by now and how they already had 7 children by my age and how no one’s going to want to marry me past the age of 23 (there goes all my hopes and dreams) then they usually proposition me with a son or distant relative that they want to marry off. I usually have a pretty sour taste in my mouth at this point so I just say that I don’t need a husband and I don’t want to get married now or ever (which usually sends them into fits of hysteria and rambling rants about how women need men). I wasn’t even aware that I had a biological clock before I got here but now I feel like it’s more of a biological time bomb.
I am constantly on the defensive here, making sure I don’t step on any toes and follow the correct protocol for standing on marshrutkas. My Russian is finally getting better to be able to understand and respond to certain situations. Me being the kind of person I am, have even started to provoke people once they start getting on my case. I figure I have to keep myself entertained if I am going to go through a long line of questioning about the lack of husband and children in my life. Now I find it kind of funny and besides, I don’t even see why it should matter at this point; after all, my ovaries are already frozen.
The other day I was sitting on a marshrutka with a box filled with Easter candy (thanks, Mom!) and a heavy bag at my feet. This girl, my age or younger was sitting next to me and another guy was sitting next to her. Let me just say that I am a huge baby about standing on the marshrutka on my ride home. I have had my face in more armpits than I’d like to count and having it pressed against the glass isn’t a pleasant alternative. With that said, this grandma approached us and as I’m waiting for the girl next to me to give her seat up, I’m sending a few nasty looks her way until the guy finally stands up. The grandma looked at both the girl and me and said, “and you are both younger than he is and you didn’t even think to give your seats up, you should be ashamed of yourselves.” I gave a feeble, “I don’t speak Russian, look at this heavy box on my lap” whimpering look but she didn’t seem to accept that as a good enough explanation.
Another time, back in December, Tana and I were waiting for the rest of our group to show up at the ballet, we were all going to see the Nutcracker. We had stopped and sat on the ledge for about .5 seconds when this man came up behind us and scolded us for sitting on the cement (the common legend here is that if a girl sits down on the cold ground then her ovaries will freeze). This is when our Russian skills were even worse than they are now so we didn’t quite understand what he was getting at until he started to motion towards us like he was about to push us. We quickly got the point after that.
Women and my sisters in particular always nag me to wear make-up and do my hair. It mostly comes down to me being lazy and not wanting to put the time and effort into looking decent. Like college, only worse. Seeing pictures of me really drives the point home when they see my long hair and made-up face. Half the time people don’t even realize it’s me. Am I really that hideous??
Practically every time someone figures out that I am an American they quickly bombard me with questions. I have finally gotten used to the, “which is better, here or there?” question and have a pretty standard, diplomatic answer, “it’s not better here, it’s not better there, it’s just different”. The other two most common questions (simultaneously) are, ‘How old are you?’ and ‘Are you Married?’ The minute “22 and no” escapes my mouth they are already telling me that I’m old and that I should be married by now and how they already had 7 children by my age and how no one’s going to want to marry me past the age of 23 (there goes all my hopes and dreams) then they usually proposition me with a son or distant relative that they want to marry off. I usually have a pretty sour taste in my mouth at this point so I just say that I don’t need a husband and I don’t want to get married now or ever (which usually sends them into fits of hysteria and rambling rants about how women need men). I wasn’t even aware that I had a biological clock before I got here but now I feel like it’s more of a biological time bomb.
I am constantly on the defensive here, making sure I don’t step on any toes and follow the correct protocol for standing on marshrutkas. My Russian is finally getting better to be able to understand and respond to certain situations. Me being the kind of person I am, have even started to provoke people once they start getting on my case. I figure I have to keep myself entertained if I am going to go through a long line of questioning about the lack of husband and children in my life. Now I find it kind of funny and besides, I don’t even see why it should matter at this point; after all, my ovaries are already frozen.
posted by Katie P. at 4:05 AM
1 Comments:
Ha, ha. Can well imagine what it must be like to be asked all that :) Have you gotten used to that now?
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