Archive for the 'Travel' Category

13
Aug

Sinful in All Kind of Ways: Encounters with Orthodox Christianity

By Anna Ershova 3 Comments
Categories: Religion, Russia, Russian Women, Travel and Ukraine

I recently discovered that I am doomed to face a fiery eternity in hell for doing yoga. I used to think I was a good person– as a regular college student, I’m no saint, but I hadn’t thought of myself as a particularly bad sinner. Until a week ago, I thought I belonged, at worst, in purgatory. That was all before I went to an Orthodox Christian monastery and learned just how terrible a person I truly am in the eyes of God.

A classic Ukrainian Orthodox cathedral

First, a little background about my personal religious history. Being agnostic has always tempered my encounters with religion. I had a chance to experience many religions in the places where I have lived, but I took them all with a grain of salt. I went to a Buddhist monastery in a high rise building in Hong Kong; I listened to an organ in the German church were Johann Bach worked; I gave food to Buddhist monks in a traditional Thai ritual; I debated role of women with my Muslim friends, and went to a Baptist sermon in the US South.

The only religion I have always been obsessively fleeing is Orthodox Christianity — the religion to which I supposedly belong.

I was baptized when I was three. Most Russian parents, religious and secular alike, follow that tradition. Many people in my generation feel that baptizing unsuspecting children is a violation of their human rights. It always made me angry to know that when I was an infant, some bearded man immersed me in water three times in the name of Holy Trinity  — without asking for my consent. It could have been worse (think recent and not so recent sexual abuse scandals in another prominent religion), but it’s of no comfort to me. Ever since I was old enough to realize that I was forced into a religion, I have despised all things Orthodox Christian.

At my baptism, I was given a cross, which was misplaced several years later. I don’t know if I have any godparents and don’t have any intention of finding out. I don’t know where I was baptized. I’ve never read the Bible, although I have read most of the Koran, some of the Torah and various Buddhist manuscripts.

It has always been that way: I never got along with the predominant religion in my part of Russia. Save for a few weddings and funerals, which are usually performed at churches, even for non-believers, I have been inside a church only a few times, mostly on tours while traveling.  Most of my post-USSR Christian friends are non-believers, so I never had a chance to learn about any positive aspects of Christianity, like spiritual betterment. Instead, my friends told me truly terrible stories about going to church for the very first time in attempts to seek guidance: the priests simply yelled at them for being sinners who could not be saved. I did hear stories about great, nice, friendly and supportive Russian Orthodox priests, but they appear to be legendary, mythical creatures who live in the Land of Faraway.

Returning to the story of how I learned of my brimstone-filled-fate: I was bored to death on a weekend at a spa in Western Ukraine. There was a state of emergency in place in the region, so I could only go visit a few places — most bridges were washed away and the roads were destroyed. The Internet wasn’t working, and I’d I left my laptop in Kiev besides. The only tour available was to a major monastery, a very important place for any Orthodox Christian.

It was meant to be a religion-oriented tour — a pilgrimage of sorts. I always reckoned that sort of thing is done via climbing uphill barefoot while observing lent.  Instead it was done aboard an air-conditioned bus. However, women in attendance were required to dress as “proper Christians.” I used to have a Muslim roommate who looked very fashionable in a headscarf, but I can’t pull it off. To worsen the situation, I had to team it up with a very long skirt. Upon entering the church’s premises, an armed guard informed me that a proper Christian woman is not allowed to wear makeup, dye her hair or get manicures/pedicures. With my mascara, highlights, and red finger-and-toe-nails, I wasn’t off to an auspicious start.

While the rest of religion tourists  crowded inside a church, I sat outside the cathedral in a headscarf with my knitting, feeling my most decent and modest ever. What naiveté — a female passerby began yelling at me. Knitting on a Sunday turned out to be a sin. I wondered if yelling at non-believers is one, too?

I can decipher that woman’s anger. Her and I are hell-bound for just being female. Testosterone  is clearly the hormone of choice in Orthodox Christianity. Women can’t be priests. Menstruating women are considered “dirty” and are not allowed inside a church, because they will “contaminate” it.  All forms of contraception are prohibited, which means a woman has no control over how many children to have. We must be a nation of masochists, for despite these sexist rules the vast majority of church-goers that day were women.

I worsened my sinfulness by refusing to kiss two glass boxes filled with the mummified remains of two saints.  I always liked the Egyptian section in museums, but it never occurred to me to kiss the glass boxes with the mummies. So why do that in a church?Kissing icons is a very old Orthodox tradition designed to venerate the deity or saints portrayed on them. It might be life-transforming, but it’s also unhygienic, unless the supposed sanctity kills all bacteria and viruses. I didn’t care if it was God’s will, science, or the elements that saved the bodies from rotting — I had no intention of touching the glass with the saliva of thousands of fanatics. When I turned around to escape, a priest nearby proclaimed I would burn in hell. Strike three.

His threats didn’t bother me. By that time, I was quite convinced I was bound not only to burn, but to slowly deep-fried and simmer. You see, I had discovered a startling list of rather unconventional sins posted on the church wall. Alongside the ten commandments and DUI, there were some that were new to me, including but not limited to…
* practicing yoga
* martial arts
* taking contrast showers
* and of course, giving human names to pets

My soul thus doomed to an eternity of hellfire, I headed back to the spa for my sinful massages and yoga.

17
Jul

Shopping in Kiev: Ukrainian Wives and iPhones

By Anna Ershova 0 Comments
Categories: Russian Women, Shopping, Stereotypes and Travel

As I was walking down Kreschatik, Kiev’s main street, I saw a billboard in English that targets foreign men.

Conveniently for visiting foreign men who fell prey to Ukrainian women’s charms, you can now get a Ukrainian wife while doing sightseeing. The company’s office is right there, on Kreschatik, so you can quickly get a brand-new wife, a “fast visa,” and then keep exploring Kiev. For those who want to accessorize their newly acquired wives, iPhones are sold two or three buildings down from the billboard. By the way, iPhones are not officially sold in Ukraine, but the store doesn’t seem to care, openly selling them on Kreschatik for three times the US price.

I wonder how much Ukrainian women are worth these days. I was really tempted to call Joe, the “American manager” of the Ukrainian wives, but I can’t pull off sounding like a man. My boyfriend refused to partake in this. Anyone wants to give me a hand?

12
Jun

“Russian Seasons” at JFK — the Russian Interns Are Coming!

By Anna Ershova 3 Comments
Categories: Russia, Russian Women, Stereotypes, Travel and US

I blogged several times about the complexity of Russian Women — Western men relationships. I wrote about the mail-order Russian bride websites; I made fun of the scammers who rip off Western men looking for such a bride; and I wrote how these societal trends make some Russian women, including myself, uncomfortable when they are abroad. To get an outsider’s perspective (which, surprisingly, turned into an insider’s perspective), I asked my dear friend Arnie Zambrano to write a guest post for me. I know he is interested in finding an Eastern European soulmate. Over a course of a recent MSN conversation, his “Russian Intern Season” at JFK (which is where I actually met him) came up. So here’s what he has to say:

(please note — I may not agree with the author’s opinion (especially about the Ukrainians :)) ), I asked Arnie to write it as his personal opinion on an interesting phenomenon).

Arnie With Two Eastern European Interns

Every year around June, I anticipate the hoards of pretty Eastern European girls who will come through the gates of JFK. To see them makes me truly happy that I work for an international airline and get to spend time at an international terminal. Even though I’ve been working in JFK for 3 years, every year, I still look forward to the Russian Intern Season as much as a child anticipates Christmas.

So what is the Russian Intern Season?

It’s the time when Russians and other Eastern Europeans send many 18-24 year old girls to the United States to work here for 3-9 months. Thanks to an agreement with the United States and Eastern Europe, CCUSA (Camp Counselors USA) hand-picks (or so the rumor has it) only the best looking women out there (some men participate, too, but I am not interested) to work in the US. They work as camp counselors — or work other similar jobs. For over 90% of them, it’s their first time in the states (and even abroad), so these young ladies are looking for a friend to get them oriented. That’s where I come in.

I’m the pioneer of my personal Russian Intern Season (RIS) at JFK. The young post-Soviet ladies flock to the specially organized JFK’s CCUSA’s desk. For the first 3-5 days, they are free to do whatever they please, so here’s your (and mine) chance to charm a pretty Eastern European!

I started the RIS when I got sick and tired of American women (I’m American, but find our women too arrogant high maintenance — compared to the Eastern European ladies). It’s simply standing at the carousels (after I do my job for an airline, of course) and having to pick the most amazingly looking girl in the intern group. At times it’s so hard, since there are so many great ones to choose from. Most of them are Russian, but there are also Ukrainians, Moldovians, Armenians, Georgians, Kazakhstan, Belarusians etc. And I am the first American man they can talk to. You can’t get more “fresh off the boat” than that.

Why do I like these Eastern European ladies so much? Unlike American women, they don’t ask to take them to expensive restaurant or to take them shopping! Perfect date material.

It is remarkable how you can identify a nationality of an Eastern European female by the way she talks to you. And no, I don’t mean an accent. Here’s my personal classification:

–Ukrainians: Wear Blue T-shirts. When you start a conversation with them, they look at you in a confused manner. [Note from Anna -- as a half-Ukrainian myself, I find it hard to believe, but oh well].

–Russians: Wear red T-shirts. When start a conversation with them, most of them give you that nice warm smile; they generally have so many interesting things to say. Overall they are very glad that you are talking to them no matter the situation.

–This year, however, the new hot thing are the Kazakhstanis (T-shirt color: orange). They are brought over here by boatful, and I love spending time with them. It definitely makes after work hours and my days off much more entertaining.

Any Ukrainian reading this post is probably thinking “Why does this author hate Ukrainians?” I know there are some nice ones out there. I personally have been lucky to meet a select few. But it seems that they’re keeping all the nice and sweet ones in Ukraine. (Guess the Ukrainian guys want to keep their nice women for themselves — good for them). Unfortunately, so far, I haven’t had any luck in meeting a nice Ukrainian intern. So I stay away from the blue-clad crowd.

Most of the girls don’t stay in NYC for too long; some of them are here for only one or two days. Then they go off to their respective workplaces, which could be as close as Ocean City, NJ (3 hour drive from New York) to San Diego, CA (6 hour plane ride). But for an adventurer like me that’s what makes it more entertaining. I met a couple of Kazakh girls and spent a couple of days with them before they went off to Los Angeles, CA. I was planning on going to LA in a 3 weeks time anyway. Now I have someone with whom to hang out over there (in case you’re wondering how I can afford to travel, working for an airline gets one cheap or even free flights).

I will most likely end up marrying a sweet Russian girl, but she has to be a Russian-Russian, not a Russian-American. I can’t stand Russian-American women. They are aware of how Eastern Europeanly beautiful they are, plus they’re extra snobby, since they were born in the US. My Russian-American co-worker is a perfect example. She manipulates all the guys in doing favors for her, makes them spend money on gifts, and, simply put, walks all over them. (She even admitted that she made my friend, who is blindly in love with her buy, her a Prada handbag… and they were not even dating!!) On the other hand her Russian mom also lives in the US. Being born in Russia, she’s such a great person. I am not attracted to her (not my age category, really), but if I had a choice between a Russian-American daughter and her Russian mom, I’d go for the latter. I am worried that if I marry a Russian, which is want I really want to do, my children will be the product of the same thing I hate!

Sometimes, I look at the Russian Brides websites, and I can’t help but laugh at all these ridiculous fees that they add on just to talk to her and see a picture. You even have to pay anywhere from $1000-$5000 to have her sent to the USA. If I were someone looking for a Russian Bride, I wouldn’t need to go further than JFK. Just stand outside the international terminal during the Russian Intern Season — and have your pick. Most of them are extra friendly, but good luck with the blue-wearing Ukrainians. (On a side note, if you’re on the internet all day looking for Russian Brides, get a life!)

By the way, if you for some reason are not attracted to the Eastern-European looks, there is also my Brazilian Intern Season. Lots of (hot) Brazilians come from Disney World to go shopping in New York. Sadly, only few speak English, but with my knowledge of Spanish, English, French and Italian, I can pick up a great percentage of what they’re saying. To anyone else, you’re out of luck.

I’m off taking a Russian girl to Coney Island, thank you CCUSA :-D

05
Jun

Russian Yalie Encounters Disheartening Welcome at Russian Immigration

By Anna Ershova 1 Comment
Categories: Russia and Travel

I have been in Russia for a while, busy re-uniting with the family and long-lost friends. I was supposed to have an internship in Hong Kong this summer, but things got immensely messed up (more venting on my part will come in a much more detailed post later), so for the next month I am a correspondent of a local newspaper, a TV anchor and a host of my own TV show (a little one, but still, a real one). Things are keeping me busy, so I don’t really have time to blog, but here is an interesting observation about Russia.

If a holder of an American passport or a Green Card flies into the US, they go through customs much faster than all those unlucky visa holders. The queues are always shorter, there seem to be more immigration officers on hand, and the smiles they dispense at the citizens are always nicer (NB: my personal observation, not a documented fact). If you enter Hong Kong with a permanent resident card, you just swipe the said card through a terminal — an voila, welcome home. This trend in general is true for the rest of the world — except for Russia.

Entering the Russian Federation is much easier for the foreigners than for the citizens of the Russian Federation. I was flying into Pulkovo-2 (international abbreviation LED) — an airport in St. Petersburg, which is dominated by the Russians returning from their European vacations. There are only two immigration booths for the Russians, while there were four or five for the foreigners.

The extremely unfriendly, sulking immigration officer (by the way, the ones working with the foreigner did smile at them; I tried taking a picture to prove, but was yelled at by the local security agents) went through an extensive number of visas in my passport and muttered something like, “why the f*** do you travel so much” (quoted verbatim, translation mine). She asked me how I “dared studying at the foreign university.” (because Moscow State is so much better than Yale, of course!) Then she asked me why my traveling passport looks worn-out. (because I travel a lot? An obvious answer). Then she finally — and very reluctantly — let me into my own country. I didn’t know if I should show extreme gratitude I was reluctantly allowed into my motherland — that’s what their demeanor suggested.

Welcome home, I guess.

PS: Apparently, Russia is actually one country with Belarus — or at least a union with it, according to the sign above the immigration booth at Pulkovo-2.

14
Apr

The Joys of Obtaining a Russian Visa

By Anna Ershova 7 Comments
Categories: Russia, Travel and Visas

Are you craving adrenaline? Are you looking for challenges? Are you willing to explore the unknown? Apply for a Russian visa.

Throughout my life, I have had to deal with all sorts of visas. I signed papers with a promise that I am not a journalist for a North Korean one ; I certified that I would not do anything newsworthy for a Chinese one (I am still not sure what they meant by it); I went through the fingerprint scanning process for the US one and filled out the 18 page long Hong Kong trainee visa application. One visa that I have never had to get is a Russian one. Lucky me.

When my boyfriend decided to brave the Russian winter, I thought getting a visa would be a bureaucratic, yet civilized procedure, just as everywhere else (yes, including North Korea!) . What naiveté. Applying
for his visa made me consider it a survivor test: only the strongest get to go to Russia.

There are two basic visa options for those who wish to visit Russia. It can be a home stay visa, for those who wish to stay with their Russian friends. There is also a regular tourist kind. Both of them require a
tourist to obtain an “invitation” and to submit it along with his/her application.

An invitation for a home stay visa is almost impossible to get. An inviting party has to have a local branch of the department of visas and registration approve their invitation. The wannabe hosts are asked to submit a prove of their income (for only the rich people should be hosting foreigners); I heard of police officers turning up at their houses to check what they looked like (so that a foreign guest would not be offended by less than luxurious living conditions). The entire procedure is said to take 45 days, but it can last for two or so months. The department’s offices are usually located only in larger cities, so if one’s hosts live in a village, they will have to endure a lot of travel.

Getting an invitation for a tourist visa is tricky in a different way. In theory, one is supposed to book a hotel online; then the hotel issues an invitation. But booking a Russian hotel online proves challenging even for a Russian-speaker: the transactions don’t always go through and the websites are difficult to navigate . Those who do not happen to have any Russian-speaking friends by their side have to resort to using several overpriced websites in bad English. If you master the process, however, there is yet another challenge: not all hotels are allowed to issue invitations. But no worries: if you wish to stay at a nice private hotel (which are oftentimes much better than the government-approved old-school ones), you can still obtain your
invitation from a Russian tourist agency that will issue it in the name of a government-friendly hotel. It is just that I haven’t found any which have any forms of online payment available.

I had my friend in Moscow obtain an invitation from a tourist agency, pay cash, and e-mail me the invitation. The embassies do not accept “copies of the invitations,” and an attached Microsoft Word document is considered more “original” than a faxed copy. And here comes another challenge: Once you have an invitation and a filled out application form, you have to pay the application processing fee.

There are only two ways to pay for obtaining one’s visa: money order or cashier’s check, so a trip to a local post office/bank rather than writing a personal check is required. Most countries’ embassies I have dealt with are perfectly happy to accept personal checks - or cash. I guess we Russians are just way too cool for that.

Got that money order? Go mail it off. Oh wait, no so fast…

The websites for the embassy in D.C. and the consulate in NYC provided us with contradicting address information. When we called the consulate, they did not seem to know enough English, so I had to talk to
them. I did not mind, but they kept telling me they did not know anything (because, you know, the consulate is there to host Russian-themed parties, not to advise those few foolish Americans seeking to

visit Russia). They told me to call a number in D.C. that I had never reached even though I had been trying for three days straight (it seemed that nobody bothered picking up).

It was only after my boyfriend got his visa that I made an important discovery. Like all other things Russian, there is a shortcut that is paved with money . If you pay a US-based tourist company $60 or so, they will issue the invitation right away. For additional $30, they will register you (another bothersome formality) in Moscow/St. Petersburg without ever asking where you are really staying. A Yale professor who often goes to Russia promised to hook me up with a really nice deal: a DC-based agency that is trustworthy, friendly and efficient. So if anybody needs the information, drop me a line.

One thing bothers me: I am not still not sure all these agencies are legal. They cheat the system and provide the immigration authorities with false information. Surprisingly, the government is perfectly aware of their activities and does not seem to mind. Neither do immigration officers. According to a Russian lawyer friend, these agencies are not legal - but they are not illegal, either, like so many things in a country with a flawed legal system. So if you are persistent enough to do extensive research and stubborn enough to obtain the
paperwork and have some money, welcome to Russia.

Just one thing: recently the Ukraine announced that the EU and US residents can visit it visa-free. The Ukraine has all that Russia has to offer - similar architecture, similar language, similar national cuisine - only more democracy and a warmer climate. The tickets to the Ukraine are priced at an amount similar to those to Russia. So really, if you want to spare yourself the bureaucratic trouble and enjoy Eastern Europe, go for Kiev, not Moscow.

03
Apr

Hot and Sexually Harassed: A Russian Woman Abroad

By Anna Ershova 1 Comment
Categories: Hong Kong, Russia, Southeast Asia, Stereotypes and Travel

I saw a new issue of “Playboy” today. I wasn’t looking for one (fake-breasted naked airbrushed females are not really my type), but the 18+ magazines were closest to the entrance of the store where I was hoping to get my daily fix of chocolate . The cover boasted of pictures of 16 hot Russians inside. A couple of other glossy magazines had photographs and headings involving (somewhat dressed) Russian models. So is Russian the new hot?

When I travel, I often experience a strange dichotomy surrounding Russian women. We are supposed to be hot, but easy. Put another way, we are supposed to be hot, but ready to sell ourselves to anyone who comes from a more developed country in the hopes of securing a man who would take us away from the cold Siberian nightmare of our lives. I don’t have a problem with being called hot, it’s the second part of that stereotype that bothers me.

The only country ever to have rejected my visa application was the Philippines. I was going to school in Hong Kong and looking for a place to spend my senior year’s spring break. The Philippines seemed like an interesting option, so I bought a Lonely Planet and went to the embassy. I had a valid student visa in Hong Kong (which is pretty difficult to get in terms of background checks etc), many visas in Asia, plus plenty of other visas from less exotic locales (the visas for which are notoriously difficult to get, e.g, Germany and the US). The embassy’s website suggested I brought along all the usual paperwork — an application, airplane tickets, hotel reservations, and a bank statement, stating I had $200 in my account.

The lady I met at the embassy took one look at my passport. After that, she handed it back to me saying that I wouldn’t be issued a visa. She didn’t bother looking at my paperwork. After I demanded explanation, she said I didn’t have enough money (without even looking at my bank statement). I asked her how much I needed to have in my account. When she said it was $200, I told her I had more than that. Then she said $400. I had that. Then she said, oh wait, it’s $800 for you, without explaining how I was different form other applicants. Well, I had that.
She kept doubling he amount until I asked her if I was ever going to get that damn visa. She said no. So I want and bought a Lonely Planet on Cambodia instead. The vacation was awesome.

It was only later that I realized why I wasn’t issued a visa. It was because I was a Russian, over 18 and unmarried. I am sure that my being blond didn’t help, either. Apparently, many Russian prostitutes use Hong Kong and China as gateways to the Philippines. I can understand why the embassy was prejudiced against Russian females; the problem was that I had a valid and oh-so-hard to get student visa in Hong Kong, not to mention student and tourist visas to other countries Did they really think I had spent several years in comfortable and wealthy Hong Kong, going to one of their most prestigious schools so that I could trick them all and find a very desirable prostitution job in the poor and politically unstable Philippines?

When I was enjoying the aforementioned vacation in Cambodia, a (blonde) Russian-speaking friend of mine and I went to what that Lonely Planet termed “the coolest nightclub in Phnom Penh.” (If anyone is there and looking for a creepy place to meet affluent kids of the corrupted Cambodian politicians and the Western European students sex-touring around Southeast Asia, Heart of Darkness is the place to be). While hanging out with friends, two guys approached us and asked where we were from. They seemed sober (by Southeast Asian standards) and nice and we didn’t feel like leaving just yet, so we decided to be polite and answer. We said we were from Hong Kong. They obviously didn’t believe us. As we showed them our Hong Kong IDs and laughed about it, they asked us where we were actually from. Russia, we said (both of us are not, but it’s easier than explaining all the geopolitical details). The very moment we did, the guys started openly hitting on us in a very feisty manner. We had no choice but to leave.

I went to Thailand for a winter break once. In order to avoid the traditional elephant-riding-beach-strutting-cocktail-drinking
experience, I stayed with a Thai friend and her twin sister. It was great while we stayed in Bangkok and went to several places not frequented by tourists. I experienced the wonderful Thai hospitality, great food (very different from the Americanized kind, let me assure
you) and the joys of communicating with the locals. And then we went to Pattaya. It is a buzzing tourist city located in a lovely part of Thailand. The problem is that it is buzzing with Russians. There are numerous charter flights from Russia and other post-Soviet republics to this city. As I was walking down the street with my Thai friend, her sister and their Thai boyfriend, speaking English to them, I got to hear many catcalls in broken Russian addressed at me. At first, I was puzzled. How did they know I was Russian? I was not wearing a skimpy mini skirt, a bikini top or high heels (a very common uniform for many Russian women in Thailand; I am not being negative, anyone who has been there would confirm this). I was speaking (almost accent-free) English to my friends. So how in the world did they know ?

The answer was simple. There were so many blonde Russian women around that the local machos got accustomed to yelling suggestive phrases in Russian to any remotely blonde female passing by. Apparently, many were quite eager to be entertained by a hot Thai man. No wonder they got excited every time someone blonde passed by. (In defense of Russian women, Russian men acted even worse in Thailand. One got to see many (sadly, mostly Russian-speaking) old, fat, bald, wedding-band-wearing hairy men with two or three Thai girls clinging to them walking the streets of Pattaya).

While there are many Russian women who to go to Thailand to sell themselves, for many, like me, the only sex-related objects of interest are the phallic shrines. Those who fall in the latter category are often victimized by the adventurous local and foreign men. Many of my friends learned to say they are from somewhere else upon being inquired about their country of origin. Germany is always a good choice (many Germans are blond), although Finland (another country with a very blond
population) works best for me. Chances are, no one know enough about Finland or speaks Finnish to find the truth. (Although on a recent flight from Amsterdam to New York, an overly enthusiastic middle-aged man started blabbering away in Finnish; I had to admit I only have Finnish ancestors and don’t speak a language).

I am excited to go back to Hong Kong this summer. It is one of the few cities where there are almost no negative stereotypes about Russian women. But before I get there, I will be carefully hiding my passport and avoiding mention of my Russian nationality to anyone I meet along the way.

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!