Russian Classes Have Begun (and It's Getting Colder)

Today I had my first Russian language class. I am glad that I am finally going to learn a bit more Russian because it's difficult when I cannot even have a proper conversation with over half of the girls in my ballet class. 

Of the nine other girls in my class, only one is a native English-speaker. Another is from Brazil and speaks pretty good English, but most of the remaining girls (one of whom is an international trainee from Japan) speak little English.

There are two Russian girls in my class who speak English reasonably well, but communication with them is still hard for me. If they need to explain a schedule change (like today, when our acting class was canceled and our modern class took place at a different time), it happens in a mix of English, Russian, and improvised sign language. If I ask for clarification of what they've said, that happens in the same mixed-together mode of communication. It will make life much easier for everyone involved when all of our communication can take place in one language.

I am also glad that I will be able to talk with the Japanese girl once we both have some vocabulary in a common language.

This morning, I woke up earlier than usual to get ready for my dance classes, since my Russian lesson is scheduled during the hour and a half preceding the start of my ballet class. This is the one thing that I am not thrilled about; I was enjoying using this time before class to eat a leisurely breakfast, warm up, stretch, and write down corrections from the day before.

I think that things will still work out well. The Russian language teacher let us out of class about twenty minutes early, so, with that time combined with the scheduled passing period between the classes, we had about half an hour to prepare for class. I will write down corrections and stretch more in the evenings so that I have less that I need to do in the mornings before class. We also only have Russian language classes four days each week, so my Friday and Saturday mornings are still open and available for me to use as I please.

This is the classroom where our Russian language classes take place. It is a relatively small room tucked away inside the massive academy, and you are unlikely to stumble upon it unless you already know where it is (and even then it can be hard to find). It is a nice size room for a class of four people (me, three other trainees, and the teacher); if it were bigger I would feel strange sitting there with so few people, as if the majority of the class were missing.

We worked on learning to recognize and pronounce a few letters, then we practiced pronouncing various combinations of letters. I know the Cyrillic alphabet well, but the class exercises are still good practice for me. These are ours from today- long strings of successively more complicated one- or two- syllable sounds involving a progressively increasing number of different letters.

I have decided that the most difficult Cyrillic letters are the ones that look exactly like letters that I am used to seeing but that make a different sound. Ф, Я, Ч, and Щ may look frightening at first, but at least I only have to associate a single sound with each one. On the other hand, a Cyrillic В suddenly acts like V, Р is R, Х becomes H, and Н sounds like N. In the long run, having to associate different sounds with the same symbol depending on which language is being used ends up being far more confusing then just learning a new letter.

Russian class was followed by an extremely chilly ballet class. It was cold enough that our teacher did not object to us beginning class while wearing sweaters and leg warmers, which usually wouldn't be allowed.

I know that it is going to get much colder (and that perhaps I shouldn't be complaining now), but I think that this fact may be exactly the problem right now: it's cold enough to be uncomfortable, but not cold enough for the school to turn on the heat quite yet. The situation in the dorms is much the same, leaving me feeling extremely glad that I bought myself a mug this weekend. Tea, hot cocoa, and the microwave down the hall have become my three new best friends.

There are communal mugs and other dishes in the kitchen that we are free to use so long as we wash them after we have finished, but I'd rather have my own mug, even if it does resemble a flowerpot. Here is a picture of it. I really promise that I am not joking when I say that it is not a flowerpot (unless flowerpots are usually sold next to tea kettles).

Yes, there were other cups that I could have purchased that actually looked like they were meant to hold hot beverages instead if pansies. However, they were all either too small for my liking (I'm not a fan of six-ounce cups of tea) or didn't look as if they would hold up well in the microwave, so this is what I ended up with.

I don't really mind my flowerpot/mug. It's functional (besides the fact that I can only fit my index finger through the handle, making it somewhat difficult to carry), allowing me to be warm when my room is cold, like it is right now. I actually think that I'll go make some tea right now. Drinking a warm beverage out of a flowerpot sounds like an excellent idea.