Intern in Russia, part 1. First and unrepeatable impressions

At the end of the year 2017 I felt that I'm quite fed up with life in well-run and comfortable European Union, thus I have arranged an internship in Russian Springfield - a town built around a nuclear power plant called Volgodonsk.

Volgodonsk in summer. The image I am not destined to see.

On 10 January, having flown through the air corridor Bratislava - Moscow - Rostov, I made it to the agreed rendezvous point, where I was picked up by the head of the local branch of AIESEC organisation. For the purpose of the upcoming football championship, the city has built a new airport located quite farther from the city centre than the old one - the drive takes about 45 minutes. In order to kill some time I was telling stories about my previous stay in Russia. I said that in my opinion the biggest difference between Russia and the EU is that here no one gives a damn about the common citizen (like you or me). I demonstrate the experience by this particular case: I was in St.Petersburg and was about to buy a subway ticket. I came closer to the cashier's window, behind which was sitting a very russian-like uniformed female worker. I pronounced my request: "One ticket, please". Nothing happened, she just kept staring at me with a poker face. I decided not to back down and put on the same face expression - the shootout continues. After I while I raised my eyebrows in order to demonstrate my desire for this 'conversation' to continue. Then she said it: "Fifty roubles!". Suddenly it became crystal clear: in Russia, the crucial part of interaction between people goes somewhat automatically without saying anything. However, it usually develops in a different way that you, as a European person, would expect. 
We finally make it to the city center, my pal Nastya is asking the driver of marshrutka* whether he could drop us off by the corner of the street. 'Well, if you pay, then sure...' he didn't miss the chance for a joke at our expense. (*marshrutka is a soviet type of city transport carried out by vans, which drive along their designed 'marshrut' - route. However, the route and stops along its way can be a bit flexible. You usually pay the fare before getting off). 

Do YOU have a magnet from Rostov? The Big Brother has apparently altered his business plan.

On the next day I arranged my trip to Volgodonsk. The deal is: after I get to the bus station, I will be picked up by somebody from the language school where I am supposed to work. On the way there I was every now and again reminded of my own mortality by the huge put holes in the road thanks to which I almost pierced the roof of the 'bus' with my head. All of a sudden we pulled over by the edge of the road. Nothing was happening; after about 20 minutes the driver returned to his seat behind the wheel and we went on. No explanations or apologies. According to the schedule, we were supposed to arrive at 7:15 pm, but somehow we managed to cross the finish line 45 minutes prior to the estimated arrival. I asked the woman sitting next to me: how is it possible, that even despite this unspecified 20 minutes break in the middle of nowhere, we still managed to arrive 45 minutes early? She gave me a surprised stare and was almost totally unwilling to answer, yet she replied, that she doesn't get why I'm so surprised, 'cause the buses hardly ever arrive according to the schedule. This is how I scored another conversation in which I was defeated. 

The word 'bus' can apparently have mutliple meanings.

Upon the arrival I found my sanctuary in the safety of the station's waiting room. I need to notify the employer that I am already in the town. A bit anxious young lady shares her hotspot with me (that's what she said) so I can send a whatsapp mesage. The sentence is: get a taxi, we are expecting you at Kurchatova 8. I find the taxi just next to the building. An older-looking driver  tells me that he had served as a soldier in 70s in Czechoslovakia: 'The whole place was nice and tidy, but this...' We arrive at the address, but there's no one in there. I walk back and fro along the yard, suddenly a car pulls over and I am greeted by the school's secretary. We go up to the 4th floor and inside the flat. 'The bulb is broken' Nastya No.2 comments on the technical state of the lighting in the entrance hall. 'You need to start teaching tomorrow morning', she adds. I object that I have spent less than 2 minutes in my new home and 30 minutes in the town whatsoever. I inquire about further information: 'You'll have classes with a little girl, download a cartoon with subtitles for her'. So I understand there's internet here, right? Well, there isn't, but the supermarket closes in 20 minutes, so if you hurry up, you might be able to get a simcard. I rush out of the house right into the shop, I fill in the necessary documents. Address? Kurchatova 8. Flat number? No clue! I explain that I was at 'home' for two minutes at best. As during many other procedures in Russia, here I also have to hand out my passport. Which institution issued your passport? Just write 'Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Slovakia'. Amazing what kind of information is required to get a simcard. Eventually I managed to download the cartoon. 

My room with working internet. 

According to the agreement, I arrive at the place of work before 9 pm, the lessons starts at 9. I find out that I am supposed to teach several lessons one after another, while the only information about the students at my disposal is their name and surname. I ask about their level, age, books. 'The levels are different' and I understood, that it was all that I was about to get. I decide to sit in the classroom and see who comes inside. I drag general information out of the first student and according to it I come up with a lesson. I repeat the same procedure with the rest. As the lessons last 60 minutes each and there are no breaks between them, I am desperately observing the students coming and leaving the room. I use the black marker a.k.a. magic wand to create the content of lessons. During a short rip in time and space I manage to slip out of the classroom to the teachers' room. I ask my colleagues how is one supposed to take a leak and grab a cup of tea if there are no breaks? They say it's quite easy - you finish one class 7 minutes early, come 3 minutes late to the next one, and in the meantime you even have time for a smoke. The Russian reality is just like that: even though you are supposed to, no one really expects you to have a 60 minutes lesson - not the students, not the teachers, not even the management. Everebody knows that you will make that break anyway and no one says anything. Rules in Russia are made just so that you know what to bend and to what extent. And it was only day before when I was wondering why the bus arrived 45 minutes before the schedule. 

My schedule. On top instead of my name is written: 'Foreigner - lessons to teach'.

I was told that kids are taught English using the textbook by Kamyanova. I was given this particular piece as an example.

At the end of the day I sat on the chair and it collapsed through the floor.