We stay at a hotel in St. P for a few days to finish up orientation. All I really learned is that we need to carry about twelve different official documents on us at all times. Carrying these documents is rarely a necessity for women, but men (esp. the ones in our group) are likely to be stopped on the off chance they are dodging the draft.
On Saturday, we move into the dorm. Interestingly, it’s the very same dorm I lived in when I lived here in 1995, though the area has become somewhat more commercialized. Our suite consists of a triple and a double with a very small kitchen and bathroom. The five of us go shopping for just enough to make it through the night then pass out and sleep for 12+ hours.
The next day, we pick up the items we were too tired to buy the previous day. The store right next to our hotel is more traditionally Russian: the store is divided up, somewhat like an indoor market, so that types of items are grouped together and sold by different vendors. However, each item is behind a glass wall, so you have to tell the vendor what you want. Easier said than done when buying tampons, dish soap, and other items none of us have ever learned.
And my personal excitement of the day: signing up for a gym membership. Two gyms are located fairly close to the dorm. One is for body builders; according to the program director, the walls are lined with posters of naked women and only reallllly jacked men work out there. In Speedos. I opted for the other gym.
When I tried to sign up yesterday (Sunday), I was told I needed my actual passport (not the photocopy I take everywhere) and a picture of myself for my ID (great…another ID. Since getting to Russia, I have received three new IDs, all of which I need to carry on me at all times). I return on Monday/today and try to explain in Russian what I want. Easier said than done. After failing to communicate that I don’t in fact want a full year pass but I do want a pass to the indoor waterpark, I finally resort to “Вы говорите по-англисски?" Thankfully, the woman does, sort of, and we continue until my credit card «hasn't gone through yet,» at which point it is impossible to determine whether the card hasn't gone through because it was denied or because they just haven't sent it through yet.
But it all works out and I make it in, complete with a new full set of papers to hold on to while my ID is made. After running for while, I head upstairs to do weights. It is at this point that I realize why everyone is staring at
me. I am one of two women there wearing shorts and the only person in the entire gym listening to an iPod. So much for blending in. Interstingly, I am one of the more fully-clothed people there. As a visual aid, I have provided an example of proper male gym attire (guy on the right).In the weight room I discover another cultural difference. At my gym at home, people generally get off a machine when taking a break between sets (and if they don't, I glare at them until they do). Upon returning from a break from an ab machine at this Russian gym («Fit-Kult»), I find two men casually leaning on it and chatting. As I watch, one moves over and uses it. He returns to his place and they continue chatting. I begin to glare. They notice but do nothing. I wait. They do nothing. I'm tempted to say something but don't want to be that stupid American, so I keep my mouth shut. Finally, I look around and notice that these men are not the only ones hanging out on a machine. Apparently, Russian weight rooms are used as a place to chill out and gossip. Not too different from American gyms, but Americans generally multitask and gossip while working out or stretching. I know I'm supposed to keep an open mind, and so far so good, but I like to be able to get on my machines when I want them.
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