Archive for March, 2008

17
Mar

How Legos Didn’t Change My Life

By Anna Ershova 1 Comment
Categories: Russia and Shopping

Can you guess what the worst thing about growing up in the Post-Soviet Russia was?

No, not the lack of democracy and freedom of speech. Not the political instability. Not even the shattered economy. It was the lack of Legos.

Legos were one of the many products that poured into Russia after the USSR collapsed. Despite the harsh economic conditions, there was much demand: people were starved for exotic foreign things, so most international companies were thriving. However, there were only a few Lego stores in all of Russia– (at least that I was aware of) in Moscow and St. Petersburg, the largest one in the prohibitively expensive mall right across the Red Square.

Every holiday, I begged my parents for a new Lego set. My ploy to trick them to buy me one for my half-birthday didn’t work out, but for most other big events there was a new set waiting in my room. The only problem was that the stores didn’t carry enough sets. They usually offered only smaller sets since they were the ones in demand.
I pined for the Mechanic and Mindstorms sets. I spent hours drooling over the catalogues — to no avail for there was no opportunity to buy them (that was before the glorious era of internet shopping). I resorted to collecting teddy bears instead.

When I first started traveling, I ran into a Lego store in Germany, but managed to talk myself into not walking in. I figured that I would not be able to leave unless I bought as many Legos as possible. So I went and bought another teddy bear (there were many everywhere of them since it’s Berlin’s tourist specialty). During the trip, I accumulated a fairly large (and dusty) collection of plush animals and kept expanding it later on.

A couple of days ago, I walked into a store in Boston and was greeted by hundreds of shiny boxes…

Not that many things have changed since I used to fall asleep while playing with my beloved Lego sets . Lego Technic now has even more exciting machinery, Lego Mindstorms is now even more complicated (personally, I am not sure if I could deal with it) and there are lots of other Lego sets that drew my attention. I especially liked the Indiana Jones one since a new Indiana Jones was filmed at my college this summer.

I was about to buy a set, but couldn’t make up my mind. I was actually very tempted to purchase a Mindstorms set, but they are on a pricier side. I doubt it is a good investment since I am not sure I wouldn’t be able to assemble it properly.

And then my boyfriend announced he had “bucketfuls of Legos” at his house.

Half an hour later, I was diligently working on an intricate color scheme for a Lego house: I began with a red kitchen, which turned out nicely (red floor, red walls, red stove - my dream kitchen). Then I proceeded to a treasure room (every Lego house should have one, right?). I feel that I was more dexterous ten years ago, but who cares: it is all about the process and the joy of finding that perfect piece that makes an excellent skylight.

That house was later demolished by the tail of said boyfriend’s dog. I am glad it was, actually, for I would not have had the heart to do it myself — and I don’t have anywhere to keep it. Still, just being able to play with the little plastic pieces made me ecstatic.

No more teddy bears for me.

 

12
Mar

One iPod Convert’s Quest to Buy a Zune

By Anna Ershova 0 Comments
Categories: Shopping and US

Several years ago, I was given an iPod (a now obsolete 30 GB Classic) as a gift. I can’t say I was a big fan. iTunes is not exactly pleasant software to use, and my attempts to load some podcasts or videos onto it were futile. Still, I was happy just listening to the music on airplanes, hiking and on my way to class. And then it disappeared from a desk in my dorm room (destined for ebay or wherever it is ‘missing’ ipods go).

I missed it, but not badly enough to go buy one right away. I assumed I would just buy one at some point, but I was waiting for Apple to come up with an iPod in red - my favorite color. I briefly toyed with the idea of painting the one I used to have with nail polish/acrylic paint or putting a cover on it, but none of these solutions would make it perma-red, so I decided to accept it the way it was.

And then my boyfriend got a Zune. He had it customized (who would have thought some people out there want a picture of two robots fighting laser etched onto the back of their MP3 player?) and obsessively tracked it as it went from the factory in China to Alaska and then to his home. This trip through half of the world lasted for three business days.

I was very skeptical at first. It is only available in one color - plain, boring black. Yes, it has a radio - and WiFi - but who cares, given that the sleek look of an iPod is so much more familiar. The price — $249 — and the memory capacity — 80GB — are the same as the 80GB iPod I had been considering. A Zune is slightly larger, but it would still fit in my purse. It also has a larger screen, but I only used the one my iPod had to click my way through my playlist. As I said, I was one of the many iPod owners who never mastered the seemingly easy process of using it for anything but listening to the music.

As I watched my boyfriend easily navigate the Zune software and the website, I started believing that I could one day muster up the courage to watch some news podcasts on that 3.2 inch screen (3.2 in is still an abstract number to me, but 8.13 cm is impressive). And wirelessly syncing it with my laptop? Ah so very alluring.

Still, I was vacillating. If there were a red Zune out there, I would have gotten one right away, but making a step from the familiar clumsiness of an iPod to the unknown Zune world was painful.

Watching the National Geographic podcasts on my boyfriend’s Zune while on the subway was the last straw. The feature on polyandry in the Himalayas left me persuaded: I want it for myself (a Zune, not two extra boyfriends).

I was in Boston, so I thought there had to be some Zunes in the metro area. I went to a Best Buy - and there were none sold. An entire range of iPods, from a Shuffle to an iPod touch, was, however, represented. But the only Zunes available were the 30GB ones and overpriced 4/8 GB flash models.

One abortive trip to Staples and many calls to various stores later (”Are you sure you don’t want a 30GB one? They even have it in white”), I gave up. Maybe there were some places where one could buy an 80 GB Zune in Boston, but spending an entire day hunting them down is not exactly my cup of tea. Opting for the clunky older versions didn’t seem like that good an idea, either. By that time, I was in full blown retail therapy mood and was not willing to give up.

I could have bought it off the Zune website, but I didn’t really want it customized. Spending an extra $10 or $15 does not seem reasonable since I plan putting red vinyl covers on my Zune (I had researched them well before I decided to buy one). So I opted for the last resort: Amazon.

The order went through Monday evening; it is supposed to be here on Wednesday. For now, I am molesting my boyfriend’s Zune and loving it. While I am doubtful about the utility of the ‘Social’ function (there are not that many Zune owners on campus), I am very happy about the radio: I just found out that it provides the wavebands for US, Europe, and Asia. I just have to make sure that I develop a high level of tolerance for Canto pop, a staple on the Hong Kong radio.

It took my boyfriend’s endless efforts to convince me to get a Zune, and once he had persuaded me and we ventured out to buy one, it was nowhere to be found. What good is all the marketing if the product is unavailable?

For now, I’m sitting here molesting boyfriend’s Zune, waiting for the UPS truck…

06
Mar

The Western Medical Paranoia, Herbal Teas, and Why Russians Fear the Cold

By Anna Ershova 0 Comments
Categories: Hong Kong, Medicine, Russia, Travel and US

I could have become a competitive swimmer, but the Soviet Union stopped me.

I had nephritis (a kidney infection) when I was five and the doctors instructed my mom to keep me away from swimming pools. They said that any exposure to “cold” water (anything with a temperature below boiling, in their opinion) would cause another bout of nephritis. My parents strictly followed that rule, making sure I only got to swim in the warm sea in the zenith of the summer for no longer than ten minutes. It was only at thirteen that I rebelled and signed up for swimming lessons at a local pool. My coach said I had an excellent potential, but started practicing too late to achieve competitive results.

Many children who grew up in the post-Soviet Russia were banned from swimming by the doctors. According to the Soviet medical logic, a female who sits on something cold/swims in something “cold” is bound to end up with an infection of her reproductive system that will definitely leave her infertile. A male who does the same will also experience an infection that will leave him infertile. If a child has ever had a kidney issue, then a prolonged exposure to “cold” water will cause renal failure and many fatal health issues. Nowadays, there are reasonable doctors in Russia who believe in scientifically proven theories, not bizarre superstitions. But every time I am in Russia, I hear mothers telling off their daughters for sitting on the “cold and dangerous” ground. Given the cold Russian winters and the low fertility rates, those mothers might be onto something.

I am having a kidney infection right now (and I have not been swimming or sitting on cold surfaces recently) and went to see a doctor today. The hospital is in the US, so I had to tell my medical history to a doctor whom I had never seen before . I briefly mentioned my kidney infection and the superstitions linked to it and she flashed me an understanding smile. Her parents are European and she has had her share of medical superstitions as a child. She was told she would get arthritis if she sat on something cold or didn’t wear clothes warm enough. Like most children, both of us did not obey the rules and still appear to be in a fairly good health.

Apart from medical superstitions, all countries to which I have been enjoy self-help ways of curing diseases. Having a cold in Russia? Eat garlic and drink linden tea with honey. Sick in Germany? Inhale steam coming from a bowl of hot water with onions and potatoes in it. Russians in particular seem to favor herbal teas. There are teas galore in most pharmacies, believed to cure everything: from obesity to diabetes to impotency.

Just like Russians, other nations are keen on using “natural cures.” A doctor in Hong Kong prescribed me ginseng (boil a handful of ginseng roots, take three times a day with meals) for feeling tired. It ws extremely effective, although the taste was abominable. A friend of mine wasn’t so lucky. She went to a pharmacy in an attempt to get rid of something that was most likely an allergic reaction to pollen. She came back with a package of a “6-flowers-cure” - a mix of dried flowers. Since the tea — quite predictably — made her feel worse, she resorted to the original plan of taking over-the-counter antihistamines, which worked well. But then, I know someone who claims an exotic mixture of dried snakes, deer antlers and herbs makes a life-changing tea.

While some nations favor a more natural approach to treatment, some favor pharmacological industries. A widely spread stereotype claims that the North Americans consume more anti-depressants than the rest of the world (Prozac, anyone?). Interestingly enough, many mental disorders are considered “purely American” worldwide. You can rarely find a European talking about a bipolar syndrome or ADHD. While both disorders certainly get diagnosed and treated, it seems to happen less often than in the US. In fact, I might have been diagnosed with ADHD if I grew up in the US.

I was extremely active and loud as a child. A friend of my parents has a guest visiting from the US. She was a psychiatrist and, taking one look at me, announced I had ADHD. My parents simply ignored her diagnosis (that was soon after the USSR collapsed, and no Russian was going to take an advice from an American doctor)–besides, they did not know what ADHD was. I tried researching it in Russian recently, but it was futile. None of my Russian friends had heard about this disorder and they certainly don’t know what a Russian term for it.
Apart from being loud and active (which I still am), I never exhibited any other symptoms of ADHD. I wonder if I would have been treated from it had I grown up in the US? You know, just in case I had it.

The “Western medical paranoia”, as the doctors in Russia refer to it, proved to be very contagious. I was very overworked when I came home to Russia for the winter break once. I was in my senior year of high school in Hong Kong. School was exhausting, college applications were annoying and I never wanted to hear the word “SAT” again. The Russian weather was cold and gloomy and I missed the Hong Kong sun. I couldn’t sleep properly. I kept having nightmares about lipase and helicase (Biology was my least favorite subject at school). I guess all I needed was lots of rest, maybe some retail therapy and chamomile tea to calm my nerves. However, by that time I had spent enough time abroad to think I also needed an anti-anxiety medication (I was pretty proud of myself being oh-so-civilized and westernized). My mom thought the idea was hilarious, but let me find a psychiatrist (the only available medical specialist in Russia who deals with anxiety etc; there are psychologists, but all they can do is talk to you since they don’t have a medical education and can’t prescribe anything).

The doctor seemed surprised when I told her I came because I couldn’t sleep properly.

-Do you have hallucinations?
-No.
-Any suicide thoughts?
-No.
-Sleep-walking?
-No…

She glared at me. “So WHY are you here?”

I have been sticking to the chamomile tea ever since.

01
Mar

Grooming and Globalization

By Anna Ershova 0 Comments
Categories: Hong Kong, Russia, Shopping and Travel

I bought a bottle of a life-changing leave-in hair conditioner in Cambodia.

I woke up in Phnom Penh one day with very misbehaving hair from dry, hot air and lots of dancing the night before. So I went to a supermarket across the street and bought the first bottle with the word “conditioner” interspersed with the Khmer letters on which I set my eyes. It was produced in Thailand by Pantene. It worked wonders for my hair and I took it with me upon returning to Hong Kong. When I realized I was running out, an excursion to the hair-product aisle at a local supermarket proved futile. Pantene offered a variety of hair conditioners to its Hong Kong customers. Some of them of the leave-in kind, but none of them had the desired texture and efficiency. I took a picture of the bottle and sent it to my friends in Thailand. They said nothing similar could be found in Bangkok or anywhere else in Thailand for that matter. My American friends said they could not help, either. Google did not yield a response to my desperate request. I gave up.

Went I went to Russia for the summer break, I saw a familiar-looking bottle in a hair salon. With a slightly modified shape and with Russian instead of Khmer, it was that very same hair conditioner! I bought three bottles on the spot and took two of them with me when packing to go to the US to school. However, what I did forget to pack was my favorite razor. I learned from an online search that the brand (Schick) did not offer the exact same kind, so I settled for a four-bladed “Quattro.”

I was pretty happy with it until I went to Russia for the winter break. I needed a new cartridge and encountered raised eyebrows aplenty upon inquiring for it at the stores. “Four razors? In a *female* razor?” Left with no choice, I bought an environmentally-unfriendly disposable kind.

I am going back to Hong Kong this summer for a summer job/internship. I haven’t checked yet, but I am very sure the exact kind of a razor is not sold there. The kind I have in Russia is not sold there, either.

I have to have three different razor models - made by the same brand - in three different countries if I want to maintain basic hygiene. Apparently, the globalized world has a lot of unwanted body hair!