Babushka gone wild

When I decide to be busy, I decide to be overwhelmingly busy. I guess they say go big or go home and, since I’m not going home any time soon, I may as well go big.

One of my favorite projects is helping in the public Hebrew kindergarten (dietskysat). Since it opened last week, there are 4 adorable students and 4 people to take care of them. I join whenever I get the chance because apparently I love being a kindergartener. I mean, what’s not to love about finally being around Russians with the same vocabulary while doing art projects? The only thing that would make it better was if I stayed for naptime. The teachers make up for that by thinking I’m good at art and putting me in charge of creating decorations. I know I know, I just keep getting the hard jobs.

I also taught my first of (hopefully many) cooking classes to the university students. I made the theme Israeli-inspired and Jewish, so we cooked shakshuka, choomoos, and pineapple kugel. The food was super tasty and the students seemed to understand most of my English! Of course, I started to doubt whether they really understood me when, after my best imitation of Ina Garten teaching the proper way to crack an egg and cut an onion, the students picked up the very large knives to crack eggs and tried to cut onions while holding them. I screamed as I pictured the blood getting mixed in with the egg yolk, but as usual, my students told me they knew what they were doing. After pleading with them unsuccessfully, I learned to walk far far away (and look up the local emergency number). Thankfully, we made it through without any bloodshed (that I know of) and very full bellies. And from now on, we might only make things that don’t require knives. Babyfood it is!

I also got to lead short activities for the teens and kids, which must mean that either my Russian or miming are now borderline understandable. The teens dedicated their Friday night to making key chains for babushka (the arts and crafts are everywhere!), and I had the esteemed privilege of killing time when, as always, the program was behind schedule. I led a name game because I still have trouble understanding and remembering all the Russian names. Like the babushka I am, I keep re-introducing myself to the same people who awkwardly know who I am even though I have no earthly idea who they are... Whoops. I’m not sure the game helped, but at least there are more people who I don’t know who know me!

The little kids activity was about Tel Aviv and someone who’s clearly never heard me sing decided I should lead “If you’re happy and you know it” and “head shoulders knees and toes.” I’m hoping that they were so distracted by my lack of language that they didn’t notice my lack of tone too. After a nice few rounds in English we sang the same things in Russian and by the end I think they were starting to feel comfortable with the random foreignor who usually comes to take pictures of them. It also helps that I fed them Israeli salad. I did feel a little bad that when they tried to engage with me and ask me questions in Russian I probably answered entirely different questions… More reasons to find me loveably adorable?

With the good comes the bad, of which I got a nice ole dose in the form of a not-so-nice ole woman. As a welfare project I went to keep a former English teaching babushka company. I was thrilled by the idea, envisioning the knitting circles and cookies we could share over a hot cup of tea. I got the hot tea and cookies, served with a side of ice cold, “you don’t know Russian, you won’t find a job as a psychologist, and you don’t know what you’re doing with your life.” After telling me just what was on her mind in English and Russian she also complained about me in front of my face to her caretaker. By the way, Russians tend to sound very angry when they speak, which makes already bad situations a whole lot worse. I am now aware that I know just enough Russian to recognize if someone is speaking about me but not enough to know exactly what they are saying. Even though this was not the first time Russians had had a meeting about me in front of me, this was the first time I felt truly and utterly uncomfortable and unhappy here. I am not describing this unfortunate circumstance to complain, but to acknowledge that not everything can be perfect all the time. I know I’ve been pretty gosh darn lucky so far so it’s only natural that I hit a speed bump eventually. As my fellow fellow said, this is about the time when things get real. People don’t always like foreigners and linguistic differences can and will be used against you. Oh, and it’s really really uncomfortable to not understand people when they are talking to and about you. I wish I could say I picked myself up and brushed myself off but I didn’t. I really did not take any of this well. After about a week, I can finally almost laugh about it. I guess I’ve gotten really good at adjusting to the fun parts of living abroad but admittedly have some work to do on adjusting to the discomfort. It’s all part of the experience. And now I understand why one of the first phrases my Russian teacher taught me was: “minye para itti” (it’s time for me to go).  And with that, minye para itti. Stay tuned for how I consoled myself with a trip to Stockholm.