(I know that in some of my posts - incl. this one - the date in the title does not match the date in the bottom. This is simply because many of my posts are writting while my internet is down, and are therefore posted a while after they are written).
Okay, so the beginning of today and the ending of yesterday was quite a bit dramatic. First yesterday, Clara and I leave the apartment to find the Italian restaurant with visited with my mentor, to celebrate our Danish government change. The restaurant is on the other side of Samara, so we expected about an hour of transport each way. We took tram no. 5, the same as we take to our organizations office, as we know it stops on the street next to the restaurant. But in short, it did not. After about ½ hour in the tramp, it´s really dark outside even though it’s still early evening, we start discussing that we have trouble recognizing the road outside. Shortly here after I recognize that this tram is on the way in its garage for the night. I have experienced this a few days before when I went on my way home from my talk with Anastasia about my work. I will tell this other story later, but for now, just know that I recognize this situation, on this time the ticket lady is not in our part of the tramp to let us out. The tramp slowly starts turning off the road, I explain Clara quickly what happened to me the last time, and we both start to panic: Knocking on the door, hanging out the window, trying to figure out how not to get lock in the tram for the night. By the time the tram is off the road complete right next to it’s garage like building, I put my head out the window, hoping the tram will stop first, and ticket lady will come out so I can yell for help to her (even if she doesn’t understand English she would know we need to be let out). Clara is by the door, trying to find a way to open it. And like a miracle, and for no know reason, the door suddenly, a few meters before judgment day, hell and what not the door opens, and let us storm out breathless. I still not know why this door opened. It is doubtful that the tram conductor heard us as she was in a opposite end (it was two trams stuck together, and we were in the latter). Perhaps it was a safety procession, but I doubt it, and generally I don’t expect to find much of those here. Maybe she saw me hanging out the latter tram in her side mirror? But that would also be luck beyond all expectations. But either way, we got out.
If we thought the worst bit of the evening way over now, we were only right by millimeters. We are not sure on our direction when we get out, or which end of the city we’re in. We walk for a good half hour, following the tram tracks on the road, before finding out where we are - close to freedom square. We then wait for approximately 20 minutes for a tram no 5. Eventually Clara insists we start walking (as we now know we need to go straight until we’re far past Kruibyshev Square). We are quite frustrated that we don’t know the public transport system any better, as it rules out the options of taking mashrutkas or busses. Mashrutkas are special Russian minibuses, by the way, where you need to tell the driver where to stop for you. After walking for quite a bit, we suddenly see the tram no five, the first in about an hour going our direction, passing us by! We try to run to the next tram stop, but unfortunately missed the tram. When we get to the next stop we agree to wait for a 20 or 22, which we know is the right direction for the next while. We manage to actually catch another 20 after a little while, and we’re able to take it until Kruibyshev square where after it goes in the “potentially” wrong direction. What one has to understand about Russian trams apparently, and what we had understood by now, is that just because the number is the same does NOT mean that it actually takes the same road. This was also the case for this tram. When we got off I insist that (unlike our tram) we need to continue to go straight, Clara insists that we need to go right. We take Clara´s road for about 10 minutes, at this point it starts to rain heavily, ‘till I say stop: from my issues with the transport a few days earlier I know that we would end up at the Polish church if we kept going this direction, which we both know would be the wrong direction. I manage to convince a very complaining Clara to backtrack and try my direction. It shows up to be the right direction and after a while we catch a tram 5. We get off too late again, because Clara was not sure about our stop being the right one, so again we have to spend about 10 minutes backtrack in heavy train (Samara by the way, has no draining system for rain, meaning that all the rain stays on the streets – imagine what my shoes and socks looked like!), and finally we get to the right street. Now we just have to find the little side street where the restaurant was. Again, it is easier said than done, as Clara lead us in the wrong direction first, again. By the time we finally found the restaurant it is more than 3 hours since we left home and got on the first tram. We sit down finally, and have our dinner. This restaurant, unlike the others we’ve been to so far, has an English menu AND English speaking staff!
We stay for about an hour and a half. By the time we know we’re leaving, we ask the waiter the way to revolution square, which is close by and where my mentor sent us home by mashrutka the last time. He explains us the way and ask us where we’re going, and gives us the name of 3 mashrutkas stopping by our apartment, going in the opposite direction of the Revolution Square. When we leave we head for Revolution Square hoping to catch the 50, the mashrutka we usually take home. After 30-40 minutes at the revolution square there is still marshutka no 50, and barely any mashrutkas at all. Clara wants to take a taxi home, but I am not very comfortable with this idea, as it is late, we barely know the way home from here, and we speak no Russian at all. So we head for the other stop where the waiter told us about 3 other mashrutkas we could take. We also wait there for about 30-40 minutes and no one of them shows up, 15 minutes before the mashruktas stop going for the day, we give up and decide to take a taxi home. We agree in advance with the (only Russian speaking) driver to pay 280 rubles, I realize this is overpriced, but nevertheless so cheap it doesn’t matter much. For the first 30 minutes of the drive we’re both quite nervous and keeping an eye on the road, spotting familiar places. Luckily for us it looks right. The last 10 minutes is spent with the drive pointing different places, asking “Da?”, and us going “Nyet!”. The driver did not know the address with showed him properly. Luckily we did. Finally I spot the main road in front of our apartment and say “Tham!” point on to the road, and the driver goes there. Luckily stop is the same in Russian, and we manage to get him to stop right outside our door. Finally, at about 30 minutes past midnight we’re home again. What should have taken about 3 hours, took nearly 6 hours. But despite the way out and back again, and despite feeling sick and rather tired, finding the restaurant at the other end of Samara and finding our way back again, despite all the obstacles, left me with a feeling of achievement, success and above all, capability.
Today, after a good night’s sleep, I wake up feeling very sick with the flu. I feel very fever tired, it hurt like hell to speak and I feel pretty nauseous. I stayed in bed past noon sleeping, Clara is watching one of my movies next to me on her computer, when suddenly my phone is ringing. Feel quite crashed I pick it up. It’s Sabrina our flat-mate, also my co-worker, who asks to get picked up in the mall, I don’t really catch up on the rest. I am all too sick to go anywhere so I tell her “Sabrina I am sick, I will give you Clara, maybe she will go and pick you up”. Quite tired of Sabrina often acting as a little princess (Clara expresses it when we talk about it), expecting others to do part of her job, I must admit I did not take her call particularly serious, and seeing as I was too sick to go out after her anyway I didn’t really pay much attention to it. Clara gets the phone and after about a moment I hear her say “Of course I will be there as fast as I can!”. Shows up Sabrina nearly fainted at the mall, and the staff was calling her an ambulance. Clara rushes to the mall and I stay in bed. At first I feel bad for not really taking Sabrina’s call too seriously. Then I start realizing that Sabrina spends so much time letting me and Clara do her job because she expects others to things for her, that she created the effect of “the boy who cried wolf”. How was I know, she did not tell me anything about nearly fainting or ambulances, and with her behavior since she got here, I had little chance of guessing. She does not take responsibility for herself, and even sometimes seem to expect others to pay for her. It is not our job to be her nanny. Even with Denis (our host person/flat-mate) Clara and I always have to take up the discussions with him, being the “boogiemen” while “sweet little Sabrina” never complains…to him. I cannot count the number of times she’s said “oh we should tell Denis this, we should ask Denis to do that”, always expecting that if she says this to us, we will do the dirty work and take up the discussions (which is turning more and more into polite fights, rather than discussions), so she does not have to get in trouble with Denis herself. And this does not paint a bright future for me; with Clara moving on Monday, I will be living for a month with Sabrina and Denis alone! Fuck my life.
After an hour Sabrina and Clara arrived back home. The doctors from the ambulance had not seen anything wrong, and said it was safe for her to go back home. Our mentors had been informed, and not long after they came home, and Sabrina had gone to bed to rest, her mentor (which is also mine) calls Clara and tells her that her friend Sasha, who lives nearby, is coming over to check on us to see if Sabrina and I are okay. I think by this point Clara nearly pull out her own hair in frustration, and I do not blame her. As the only healthy person she would be the one forced to talk to this Sasha guy, and frustrated about the fact that my mentor (AGAIN) makes agreements on our behalf without checking if we’re okay with it first. There was no point for this Sasha guy to come, both me and Sabrina was in bed resting, and both just preferred peace and solitude. After a while this Sasha comes by, he talks with Clara for a while, and says hello to me and Sabrina. He was sweet but his presence in the apartment was completely misplaced. He was however thoughtful to bring us oranges and chocolate, which we enjoyed after he left (Clara was actually polite enough to invite him for tea, but he declined, and seemed aware from the start that he was misplaced). Note to self: oranges are great presents to sick people.
..And now? Well I continue to rest. Denis said he would only be gone for today, but has yet to return, luckily. We hope that he will take his time, as all three of us girl feel quite a lot better when he is not here.
So how am I feeling this evening? Continuously sick as hell, I am resting with lots of tea, trying to get healthy for work on Monday. I am not sure how well they will take it, if I call in sick Monday, after I was getting Friday off because of the stress. Tomorrow we will also have to get to the railway station to get our tickets for Nizhny Novgorod (near Moscow) where our On Arrival Training will start on Wednesday. Everybody meets up tomorrow at 1pm to buy the tickets, so we will meet the two new volunteers. Katja (Clara’s mentor) told us just a few hours ago. What’s with Russians and giving unreasonably short notice? Hopefully I am feeling great again by then, 10-15 hours in a (Russian!) train is no good when you’re sick.
For now I will stay in bed resting with my fever, while Sabrina is burning up in the other room, and Clara is trying to help her without getting further worn out after her week and work. Welcome to the house of exhaustion. I won’t lie, I feel a bit bad for Clara.
‘Till next time, coughs and infectious hugs,
Cate
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