Kazan — summer 2014

Okay, гречка (buckwheat groats) as a side dish is kind of boring, just like rice. But if you throw in a package of red pepper that you have saved from Pizza Hut deliveries, then it's much more interesting. Those little packets aren't going to last forever... Hm... if you mixed the гречка with a bit of that hot Russian mustard that would definitely be more interesting. And what about horseradish? Possibilities, possibilities...

Wow, what a great evening! I had dinner with the Nabiullin family. In the past they have served as a host family for us, although this year that didn't work out. Nonetheless they were kind enough to invite me over for dinner. I'll probably break the story of the evning into three or two blog entries.

First off, the family itself. The owner of the apartment is Lyutsia, who is probably roughly my age or a bit younger. Her daughter is Adel and son-in-law Marat. Adel & Marat have a son, Timur, who is a year and ten months old, but he is about as big as a three-year old, if I am any judge. Lyutsia was being visited by her sister Gulya (?) from Siberia, Gulya's young adult son Lyosha and her young son Raïl.

Lyutsia is a fantastic hostess for foreigners. She teaches kindergarten, so she is used to speaking slowly to kids, which is an incredible help to foreign students. Additionally, she always looks at the positive side of things first before jumping to negative conclusions. That's also a key to dealing kindly with foreigners. Marat and Adel got married the day our 2011 trip left Kazan. At that time they were hosting two of students, Max and Stephen. The night before we left was Marat's bachelor party and Adel's bachelorette party. Stephen and Max coaxed the bachelor party to the Irish Pub, a local place that is rather out of the price range of most average people in Kazan, and they hosted everybody to the tune of 13,000 rubles, which at the time was about $450. I have to say, Max and Stephen scored some major international points by doing so, and I am unutterably proud of them for it.

Here is a picture of the family. Back left is Marat, husband to Adeliya. Back right is our hostess, Lyutsia. Front row on the left is Gulya, Lyutsia's sister. To the right of her is her son Alyosha. In his lap is Gulya's youngest song Raïl. To the right of him is Adel, and to the right of her is Adel and Marat's son Timur.

And of course in this picture Alyosha stepped out and I stepped in.

Timur is at a cautious stage in life, so I'm afraid he never quite warmed up to me, although I did get him to play peek-a-boo a bit. Raïl, on the other hand, was quickly tricked into a fascinating game where I alternated poking his belly-button and nose while making beeping sounds. Yeah, that one usually gets them every time.

Finally, I must mention their cat. Last time I was here, she was in heat and made pornographically creepy noises any time you scratched her back. This time she was merely friendly, for which I was grateful.

So what was on the table? First off, here's a picture. (Click for larger view)

On the far right is a dish made up of meat medallions with a mayonnaise sauce topped with chopped vegetables. (Russians and Tatars are crazy for mayonnaise. The variety of types of mayonnaise they sell her is nigh unbelievable.) To the left of that is a triple-layered fruit tray with a plate of sliced cucumbers mixed in. Next to that is an apple cake, which truth to tell is essentially identical to a basic apple cake from the kitchen of any mid-Western homemaker. Under that, the round things, is a dessert called баурсак (pronounced bah-oor-SAHK), essentially sort of doughnut-tasting things, but a bit dryer. Under that is a some nicely boiled potatoes with parsley, removed from the water just before they get too soft to be picked up with a fork. And in the upper left is one of the most tasty and complex chicken salads I have ever had: chicken, tomatoes, olives, mayonnaise, croutons... I can't even remember what else.

And what did we have to drink? Gulya had brought from Siberia some homemade samogon (home-brewed hard liquor), which was made from berries she had gathered herself by hand, fermented, put through a still, and then flavored with cones from cedar trees. They insisted I try it. Kind of whiskey-ish. Then every Russian table has juice and mineral water. And then of course there was champagne and wine.

Sad to say, the Russians are always disgusted with me because I drink too little; it seems a sleight on their hospitality. Sorry, folks, but I'm here on business, and if one of my students gets sick at 10:00 p.m. or 2:00 a.m., then I need to be able to respond in a non-drunken fashion, so forgive me if I mostly abstain.

So we talked about everything. I avoided talking too much about the Ukraine because I generally avoid heated political discussions here; my job in Russia is to smooth things between my university/students and the locals. I can't do that if I'm getting everyone all riled up on politics. Then it was gift time. I had picked up some .rose oil for Lyutsia in Bulgaria. Adel and Marat had a Harry Potter themed wedding, so I had picked them up a replica of Dumbledore's wand. Marat immediately tried an Avada Kedavra, but you have to really mean it for that spell to work, so nobody died. I tried a Wingardium Leviosa on Marat, but apparently my pronunciation wasn't quite right and he didn't levitate.

On my phone today I got a notification that my landlady had tried to call me. Weird. My phone hadn't rung at all. A few minutes later I got another one. Perhaps she was pocket dialing? I called her back just in case. I asked whether she had tried to call me. She replied:

Yes, but apparently I had run out of money on my phone, so the phone wouldn't let me actually place the call. I wanted to tell you that one of the neighbors on the second floor in the building had complained that you had clogged their drain. That's not theoretically possible since they live on the other side of the stairwell and the pipe systems on the two sides of the stairwell are not connected. In any case, if any of them try to talk to you, don't say anything.

Weird. This is my fifth summer here, and indeed I remember her previously warning me about the neighbors. Now maybe I see why.

What an interesting phone system the Russians have. If you call someone and their line is busy, you sometimes get a text message when they get off the phone. On this occasion, I got a message just because someone tried to reach me and failed. Glad I responded. Back in the States I mostly ignore my phone. (Not an option here since I'm a group leader...)