In Russia, Caucasians are Black

I was asked to comment last Sunday on whether racism in Russian was
worse or better than racism in the South (of the United States). And
I really couldn't answer the question with anything other than – it's
different. For one thing, I haven't been in Russia for a long enough
with enough language comprehension to have picked up on racially
structuring in Russia in anything other than a throughly academic
manner. (After however many years living full-time in Petersburg our
baby-sitter has picked up on the racial constructs, he went around the
room during orientation and picked out who might run into problems
because they do not fit the Russian, Orthodox ideal. Incidentally, my
Southern socialized mind would have classified all of them as white.)
Academically, I know that persons from the Caucasuses are referred to
as chernyi -- literally "black." It's a rude term, but not beyond the
pale, I've heard my eight year old host sister using it in a
discussion about her classmates with her grandmother, and while I
didn't catch all the implications it wasn't so much hateful as it was
entirely dismissive. (I had an awkward moment when my host mother and
grandmother asked if Memphis was a dangerous city, and when I said
that it was somewhat dangerous, one of them automatically followed up
with: "Well, don't you have a lot of blacks there?")

However, Russia has confirmed that yours truly is not color-blind.
I'm used to Memphis. Even if Rhodes remains mostly upper middle class
and white, I am used to Memphis. Russia is surrealistic in its
whiteness. All of the advertising features white people. Smiling
white Russian families – not necessarily blond haired and blue-eyed,
but definitely white (with rosy cheeks). A subtle difference from
American advertising which seems to shoot for a more pluralistic
ideal. (Gender stereotyping is just as bad, if not worse in Russia.)
The vast, vast majority of people I meet in the streets are white to
my mind. I have a sneaking suspicion that not everyone I would
classify as white is "white" by Russian standards. And on the
reverse, if my host sister were suddenly transplanted to Memphis, on
first glance, I think many people would decide she was Mexican, not
Russian. I saw a black man in the streets a couple weeks ago and felt
relieved at some odd restoration of normalcy. If I lived more toward
the center of the city, I think the surreal effects would be worse.
I'm in a working-class neighborhood, so there are more immigrants
living here than might be elsewhere.

So, yes, I'm quite aware of "race" in my white Southern-bred way. I
knew that, but now I know that.

Russian Cuisine

testing this post by email thing

Umm...yeah. So, I wasn't expecting miraculous delights of culinary
rapture from Russian, but some spices would be nice. Or just another
plate of borsch and a piece of black bread with mayonnaise on it in
place of the second course of hot dogs and pasta. Borsch is yummy and
the black bread is surprisingly good with mayonnaise and not so good
by itself. A double helping of the delightful tomato and cucumber
salad and I'm sure my belly will be full. Just please, please, no
more hot dogs.

So, yes, spices. Our babysitter informs me that Russians haven't the
tongues to able spices and are convinced that anything more intense
than black pepper – and perhaps just black pepper – will result in
spontaneous combustion.

But that's okay for I have found my culinary salvation! Shaverma!
Which is sharma in American speak, but I find it easier to pronounce
in Russian. I feel in love with the beefy Al-Rayan version over the
summer in Memphis, but the tasty chicken version served up for 55
rubles (a bit over two dollars) at the stand outside the Metro is
hitting the spot as well. Delightful, subtle use of spice in
delicious tender, greasy chicken flesh. Cool yogurt sauce. Chunks of
cucumber and tomato. All wrapped up in a warm pita ready for munching
on the walk home.

Oh, my friends, this is what fast food should be – so much better than
McDonalds. I'm modifying the suggested business plan, Whitney. I'm
sure we can do both blini and shaverma.

In other food news:

I bought some gummi bears today. How I love them! And they weren't
those nasty German gummi bears. Russian gummi bears are proportioned
differently from American gummi bears. They have bigger heads.

I found Mountain Dew. It's at the American run bar across from the US
Consulate (which, btw, is a very manly shade of pink.) There was much
delighted squealing from your humble narrator. And, it was a glorious
can of Mountain Dew after having abstained for about a month.
Glorious, I tell you, my friends.

I am alive.

Russian is turning me into a violent person. I want a handgun for multiple reasons, including but not limited to: a certain portion of males of the species, loud dogs, and blowing off steam by shooting things.

I have a new techie toy to play with. More blog updates will follow when I get it completely figured out. I also think that Windows Media Player is quite possibly the worst piece of software Microsoft ever created.