Now That's Funny!

It’s an adventure learning Russian. I set a goal for myself to start a conversation in Russian every day of Lent hoping it would become a habit. I’ve always studied pretty hard, but I have shied away from actually talking to people unless I couldn’t get out of it. It has become a bit of a habit, but sometimes I wish I could keep my eager Russian mouth shut. I should say that all I’m about to relate were exchanges in Russian. Read on.

Recently, I was seeking advice as to where to buy flowers to plant in the pots I brought with me as well as in a couple of triangular planters on our balcony. I got the point, but didn’t understand everything. I was told to go to the manager of our compound. He told me that he only had roses. Okay, too tall. I was then introduced to a man who I was told (I thought) had flowers to sell. He would meet me at the gate Monday at 1:00. Okay. I was there; he was not. He was on Uzbek time. He rang my bell at 1:15. I left the house with him and he told me that he’d pull his car around. When he did, he opened the passenger door for me to get in. There were no flowers in sight. Apparently I misunderstood about him having flowers. My first thought was ‘no way am I getting in this car’. My thoughts quickly raced from “I may get murdered, kidnapped or worse” to “Women here get in stranger’s cars every day”* to “You know you’ll procrastinate if you don’t do this today.” So I got in. When we got to the bazaar, I bought flowers, I bargained successfully, he drove me home. Easy. Oh, and he would not take any money from me even though he had to pay to park. When I got home I was ready to get soil to plant. I went back to the gate guard, my helper. I told him what I needed. He called over another man who went to work digging soil for me. I stood waiting with the guard and we tried to talk. After I realized that it was going to take some time, I decided I should change my clothes. I was still dressed nicely from my lesson and lunch at the Embassy. So I told the guard I would change clothes then return. That’s what I thought I said. I actually said that I was going to take my clothes off. He looked at me. I repeated it adding the word for clothes just in case I needed it. He continued to silently look at me. I thought. I reran the sentence through my head. CHANGE CLOTHES! I corrected myself. CHANGE CLOTHES! We laughed. I swore him to silence. Poor man. The Muslim culture is prevalent here. I can just hear him, “Really ma’am a simple thank you will do.”

This is Rustam who helped me plant lots of flowers while my parents were here visiting. He told me if I ever needed anything just call out "Rustam!" I already have.

I will take this opportunity to remind you of the specificity of the Russian language. There is a base verb for dressing; a prefix is added it you want to “get dressed”, “change clothes”, “put on an item of clothing” (this, apparently is different than getting dressed), “take off an item of clothing” and “undress”. I’m not at all surprised I made the mistake, just aghast.

Later that day, after the man who fetched the soil for me surprised me by spending a couple hours planting the flowers for me, I made another mistake. I wanted to tip him so I asked him if I could pay him. He gave me the same look that the guard gave me. I repeated the question changing the pronoun. Same look. I then realized that I had asked him if I could buy him. Oh, dear. I was so flustered I couldn’t think of the verb for “to pay”. All I could think to do was dig out money and hand it to him. He wasn’t sure whether to take it or not then I remembered the proper verb. Whew!

During one of our dinners out with the Embassy staff, I ordered a drum. Yes, a drum. I always mix up the Russian word for drum, барабан, with the Russian word for mutton, баранина, so I ordered a drum. The kind, patient waitress politely asked me, what? I saw Doug’s head shaking in the background. I ignored him and ordered another drum. In spicy sauce. Seeing her grin, I realized something was wrong and, given the fact that I was ordering in Russian, I figured it was me. Doug corrected me and I reordered. Oh, by the way, the drum was delicious.

Remember, I am here representing our country. Thank God for diplomatic immunity!

*Most people who drive a car use it as a taxi to make extra money. It’s like hitchhiking which I was sternly and morbidly warned to never, never do. Apparently it works here.