The first Russian camp was in Petropavlovsk in the far North of the country. It’s one of the most Russian places in the whole country. It’s where my best friend in country, an Indian guy named Sidd who has the same acerbic sarcasm that I possess. Lodging was also free because we stayed at the dorms. The downside was that we had to be in the dorms at 10 pm. No late night partying, well, not in the normal way. So my dorm room was Aaron, the 30 year old married dude from Texas, Brendan, the whitest Irish-American I’ve met who dispenses decent advice, and Jamie, the New Englander who lives in the middle of nowhere, which is saying something in this country.
So the form of the camp was very simple. We were divided up into groups of 3 or 4 and had 4 hour lessons in the morning everyday. After that, we were free for whatever. Because Sidd was in my class, most conversation ended being far too inappropriate, in both languages. I did learn a few good words though, like horny in Russian. Don’t know how that’s going to help in my conversations, but I’m glad I know it. Aaron was also with us along with Hannah, the stereotypical Midwestern girl from Minnesota. I actually enjoyed being in a structured class setting because it really focused me on improving one of the skills I truly wish to cultivate. I have a personal goal to speak 4 languages by the time I’m 25, which I’m on course to meet. I just need to improve my Russian and my Spanish, and I’m there. We covered all kinds of grammar components and vocabulary that I didn’t understand, and I’m extremely grateful for that.
Our afternoons were varied, but usually involved napping or walking around Petropavlovsk. I say napping because we ended up playing Risk until 4 in the morning a couple of times. That may sound lame, but we were all big strategy game buffs and did not give an inch in warfare. These were epic encounters not seen since Napoleon walked the Earth. Unfortunately, I was about as useful as the genius who came up with the Maginot line. In short, I lost. My ego was downsized a bit. We also played Carcassonne, which is another strategy game involving tiles, and I highly recommend it to one and all.
A couple times we did prepare epic group meals and drink some vodka and beers. We had Italian food and Plov (Uzbek pilau) and just sat and talked. It was honestly the closest to just hanging out with a bunch of buds that I’ve come to. There wasn’t anything spectacular that happened, just relaxation.
The second camp right after that was another language camp in Shuchinsk near where I live. The unfortunate part of this camp was that most of us were sick through most of it. The dynamics were different, but good. Sidd came down to this with his girlfriend, a local girl named Sveta. She was our teacher, and the rest of our group was Audrey, the other local Wisconsinite, her indefatigable and tenacious (in a good way) boyfriend Patrick and Jessie, the independent-minded girl of our oblast. These classes were a little more serious than the other camp, but that’s all right I think.
Because the other guys at the camp were crazy and lazy at the same time, which seems like an odd combination, but it works. Unfortunately, most of us were laid out with some kind of summer cold, so it was a little more low-key than we thought. Still, we managed a couple beers every night and some Scrabble and Risk action. No matter our personalities, we’re all nerds at heart. We also had a rotating chef duty and had some awesome food. Well, except for me. I had a nice stir fry all planned out, only to have the propane tank to run out 2 minutes after I started. I guess ramen noodles aren’t too far off.
The highlight of this all was the trip out to Borovoe. Borovoe is the resort town of North Kazakhstan and has the nickname of “Switzerland of Kazakhstan.” Obviously whoever came up with that nickname has never been to Switzerland or even seen mountains. It’s only Switzerland in the sense that the rest of the area around it is flatter than a plank. Sidd, Sveta and I actually hiked up one of the hills and had reached the summit after maybe 30 minutes. I think Audrey was right in calling it the Wisconsin Dells of Kazakhstan. Despite the misnomer, it was nice. Just as I imagine like other parts of the former Soviet Union, people in Kazakhstan take horrible care of their environment. Littering is endemic here with bottles and bags strewn everywhere and lakes almost as green as the bushes that surround them. However, Borovoe is such a resort with enough people coming that the lake and surroundings are clean and as pristine as nature can be here. So, Audrey, Patrick, Jessie, Hotrad, another one of the older volunteers) and I headed to the beach and just lay there or swam. No responsibility and relaxation. Just what the doctor ordered. I think it’s best to end on that note, lying out on the beach with cool clear waters reflecting the green hilltop.
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