The six of us arrived in St. Petersburg, Russia prepared for six weeks in a new city, immersed in a completely different culture. At the end of our program, we were not disappointed -- we learned that we could survive and indeed, love a part of the world so foreign to us that we knew nothing other than the words for "yes" and "no" upon our arrival.
In the heart of the city, we found ourselves lucky enough to be able to get by in our first few weeks with a few key Russian phrases. We felt confident walking into a restaurant and muttering the words for "English menu" and "no ice need Diet Coke." Fortunately, though, we often were met with Russians only too happy to test out their years of English lessons on us.
Our most memorable experiences in Russia revolved around the biggest cultural difference we found -- Russians think collectively while Americans think individually. At the time, we simply thought that the Russians were insane -- how did they not question the lack of hot water in the city for the month of June? Or, why did they think nothing of piling every single person standing at a bus stop onto the bus despite its carrying limits?
We noticed this peculiar collectivist thinking in many little ways during the first couple of weeks in St. Petersburg, but it was only with our five-day, school-free trip to Moscow that we really learned how collectivist Russians are, or for that matter, how individualistic Americans are.
The six of us and our professor arrived at the train station in St. Petersburg ready for the exciting six-hour trip to Russia's capital. We had been told that it would be the four girls together in one sleeping compartment for the overnight train and the two boys with our professor in another compartment. When we arrived, though, plans had changed. We did not have sleeping compartments together, but instead we all had to sleep in separate compartments with three Russian strangers. To Russians, these sleeping arrangements are as common as a Starbucks is in the United States, but we were so petrified that we clutched our belongings all night while waking up every half-hour to check on the others in our compartment. Perhaps it was the scary man who screamed at us in German, telling us he would get us "foreigners" when we got to Moscow that made us so uneasy in our sleeping arrangements. Regardless, our fear of being with strangers was evidence of how different we really think from each other.
The most memorable collectivist thinking we found among Russians came during the month of June. Apparently the pipes of the city are cleaned in June and therefore all of the hot water in the city is turned off. Many places have separate heaters to warm the water, but for the most part, Russians get by with alternative methods of bathing. They have three choices: they can not bathe, bathe in the cold, or go to the much-revered banya. Not only did the Russians face these choices but so did us spoiled U.Va. students.
We split ourselves between those who went to the banya and those who braved the freezing water for the night (occasionally we would get hot water in the middle of the night and we took every advantage of this opportunity). Those of us who braved the cold were left with headaches and goose pimples the size of which we had never seen. Those of us who chose the banya truly lived the Russian experience.The banya is a sweathouse where you force yourself to stand in the sauna as long as possible. For Russian men in particular this means not only a very long time, but a very long time with big Russian hats on to prove their manliness. The Russians alternate between standing for three to four minutes in the heat and then jumping in the pool to cool off. These choices did not truly represent choices in our minds; yet again, we realized that though it certainly was uncomfortable and downright frustrating to choose between cold baths and the banya. People actually live like this. Russians are not spoiled enough to be upset at the lack of hot water. They simply accept the fact and deal with it. If anything, we learned to be more type-B in our existence. Not everything can be exactly the way we want it, but we can still survive just like the Russians -- even if that means no hot water for a month.
By the end of the trip, we discovered more about ourselves than we had ever thought possible.
We learned the best way to duck under the faucet so as to maximize the amount of hot water with which we could bathe. We learned that Lenin's body really does look fake. We learned how to read an entirely different alphabet. We learned that you can find other Americans no matter what part of the world you are in. We learned that Russians -- especially young Russians -- love talking to Americans about the United States. We learned how much fun you can have sitting in Red Square on a sunny afternoon for three hours. We learned how amazing bridges going up on a canal at 2 a.m. could be when there are a few thousand other people around you cheering the workers on. We learned that you could spend countless hours in beer gardens throughout Russia and never get bored. We learned what it's like to live in a place where it never really gets dark. We learned that Russians love sour cream and even put it on McDonald's hamburgers. We learned that Peter the Great had enough of a sense of humor to dump water on the heads of his guests visiting his palaces. We learned that Georgian food could quite possibly be the best food on earth (only one restaurant in the U.S.!).
Above all, we learned that we could be smart, savvy, independent, friendly and naive about all of our experiences.
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