12/11/2019
Continued...First day in Moscow.
The metro doors are lethal on a windy day. It needs a strong shoulder charge to get them open. If you’re closely following, you can even be knocked off your feet. These are nothing, though, compared to the obliteration from the Russian Babushka next.
I was met with a stone cold face. An elderly cashier sat staring blankly through me. It was clear she didn’t want to be there. I plucked up the courage and said as quick as I could ‘Ya hachu billet’.
The words had no effect.
I tried again and again with various intonation to no avail. After the 10th time of saying this phrase and dripping with sweat, she burst, furiously shouting at me, forming a dark mist behind the glass window.
I was bewildered and upset. So i turned to the ever-growing line behind me and squealed ‘help’. Yet no one stepped forward. I turned and helplessly mouthed ‘ya hachu billet’ again, but the shouting didn’t stop.
I had already turned an albino shade of pale.
She jotted something down and slid it to me under the counter. I stared at it, but couldn’t work out any of the hieroglyphs. I just looked at it - like a little boy looks at the wall when in trouble - not really thinking about anything, but hoping the kerfuffle dies down by itself.
I turned and noticed a formal looking man sitting in a glass box next to the turnstiles. I ran over to the box and plastered the piece of paper against it so he could read my new lifeline. But he pointed to the exit. And i exited.
I got home and put the kettle on. I called the main office and told them that I couldn’t come to work because it was impossible to buy a ticket.
‘Just give them money’, they informed me with the tone of voice like - ‘blin, s kem mi rabotaem? On zhe durak.’
I perked up a bit and went back for round two. The same woman sat there. This time i had 50 roubles. Surprised, she hesitated, before sliding willy-wonkas-metro-golden ticket back to me. I ran faster than any teacher leaving school in May.
..
The problem only came to me a few years later when i retold this story.
*Note to foreigners learning Russian. If you say ‘Billet’ too quickly, you end up with a very bad swear word...
11/11/2019
The first day 10 years ago - Me, Moscow and My Russian.
I spent the first week and a half alone, acclimatising to the odd looks of the irremovable elderly neighbours on the benches outside the house. I started to wear my Union Jack socks and, nimbly, with my hands in my pockets, lift the bottoms up as I went by - to show that I was but a stupid foreigner. Nothing to be afraid of.
This ‘hint’ I’d use for almost half a year before I got the courage to wear normal socks.
In reality, I was scared of everything. I had travelled before, but it was always within the safety blanket of the European Union.
I knew I had to leave the house on the first day and make my way to the centre. I organised it with military precision to the point where I felt almost confident that I wouldn’t cry during the day. I got up at 5 before anyone was awake to stab, murder or r**e me and left the house. I lived at the bottom of the orange line which I couldn’t pronounce ‘properly’ for about 3 years.
‘Konkova,’ I said,
‘No silly, it’s Konkova,’ they replied.
Bemused, I gave up.
I tried walking to the centre. I got 40 mins in and not even to the next station when I turned back, threw plan A in the bin and wrote up plan B. The plan in which I actually had to talk to someone.
I whipped out my trusty, very old, james-bond-sony phone and googled ‘I want a ticket please’. Looking back, it probably wasn’t the brightest sentence to come up with. The translator came back with ‘YA HACHU BILET, POJALUESTA’. And… so…I got rid of the last word straight away. It wasn’t worth me even attempting it.
Ya ya ya ya I said, walking around in circles. Hachu hachu hachu hachu, I practiced, like I was having an abnormally long allergic reaction. Bilet bilet bilet bilet was close enough to the French ‘Billet’ for me to continue to the next stage. Putting it all together.
After 2 hours, I was ready, sentence on the tip of my tongue, as if I was going to forget it on the 10-minute stroll. I left, for the second time that morning, in the direction of the metro. Heart beating out of my chest.
… to be continued
07/11/2019
I’m leaving Russia. I need a break from life and will travel the world in search of adventures. We never know what might happen en route and as a precaution, I’ve been selling everything I own apart from the clothes on my back and laptop - to keep the blog going 😉.
I came here for what was supposed to be 6 weeks... and now, 10/11 years later I’m leaving. On a high note ☝🏻.
Here’s how story goes...
The summer of 2008 had passed and I hadn’t found a job for the new academic year. As a fresh, straight-from-uni teacher, I had been to countless interviews without success and was sitting miserably at home one day when I called my friend.
‘Why don’t you teach English abroad?’ He suggested.
‘What course do I need for that?’.
‘CELTA’.
I quickly typed it into the Internet and a selection of exotic countries popped up. Russia, the only snowy country, was first. I thought I’d practice filling out forms. I didn’t expect, neither want to come to Russia at the time. I downloaded the form for Moscow and sent it off anyway, not waiting for a reply.
Minutes had passed and I was onto the next bout of application forms when the phone rang from a strange number.
‘It’s ——— here. Could you do an interview?’
I was caught napping. I didn’t believe they would call me THAT quickly.
The interview was awful. They asked lots of questions about English grammar. Something we’re simply not taught at school in Britain.
Still, by the end of the interview, they wanted me on the course. And said that the invitation for the visa would be ready shortly.
2/3 weeks later and I’m sitting on the plane in the direction of red square, looking at my feet, and thinking, ‘what are you doing, Ben?’.
Not a word of Russian known. Not a single touristy place researched. I landed on a cold night at Domodyedovo and have loved it ever since.
18/10/2019
Dear Students,
Thank you. Last day with you. Last lesson finished. Last ‘Funday Friday’. I’ve taught you amazing people for the last two and a bit years. I don’t have a bad word about any of you.
I have been really touched by your kind words, your singing, your sweet gestures, your smiles, and yes, your tears ❤️.
It’s been a privilege being your teacher.
-
I could go on about how amazing they are, all day, but what I love about them the most is their ability to try. They are fearless. I could point my finger at any one of them, and tell you they’ve got what it takes 💪.
I think as adults we sometimes forget to try new things and it’s the cornerstone of change and improvement.
So here’s to trying new things 🍻
And here’s to my forever students, and now, friends. ☺️
18/10/2019
04/10/2019