Paket

Пакет [paket]!  A plastic bag.  Russians are very fond of these.  The affection stems from the shortages of the Soviet period.  My dad used to dedicate a whole afternoon to washing all the plastic bags in the house.  He would hang them to dry on our balcony in the summer time and in the bathroom in the winter.  In the late 80s and early 90s plastic bags with foreign logos found their way into the Soviet market.  When I was 12, I could think of no cooler accessory than a plastic bag with a Marlboro logo on it.  Needless to say I didn’t have one.  I had one pretty bag with a picture of a puppy.  I would carry my  textbooks to school in it and thought myself pretty stylish. 

Nowadays people buy plastic bags with Versace and Clinique logos. There’s no sight more bizarre or sad than a babushka lugging her meager grocery purchases in a shiny bag that reads “Gucci.”  You can buy those at a metro kiosk or at a Галантерея [galantjerjeja], a cosmetics shop. 

As spoiled westerners, we tend to assume that our groceries will be placed in plastic bags.  Some of us opt for paper bags since they are recyclable.  Others choose to carry their groceries in bags made of fabric, sporting the recycling symbol or the logo of the organic foods store they were purchased at.   In Russia everyone can become environmentally conscious.   Even the new shiny supermarkets do not give out bags without a request.  At a supermarket you might get them for free.  At a produkty shop you pay somewhere between 3 and 6 rubles for them.  The assistant will probably finish your transaction by asking something like: “Пакет нужен?” [Paket nuzhen?].  Literally it means, “Need a bag?” If you don’t have a plastic bag stashed away for this express purpose, you should tell her “Да” [da].  You should also tell her if you need more than one because she will not try to assess your ‘bag’ needs.  If you do indeed need more than one shopping bag, you come face to face with some of the intricacies of Russian grammar.  It goes something like this:

Один пакет  - [odin paket] – 1

Два пакета  -[dva paketa] – 2

Три пакета  - [tri paketa] – 3

Четыре пакета -[chetyre paketa] – 4

Пять пакетов – [pjat' paketov] – 5

Шесть пакетов – [shest' paketov] – 6

Семь пакетов – [sem' paketov] – 7

 Hopefully you will not need any more bags than 7.  Russian nouns have 6 cases, which means that the endings of nouns change depending on the grammatical structure of the sentence.  I don’t want to delve into this issue now, but the above examples demonstrate this aspect of the grammar.

Shopping

 One can learn a lot about the culture through shopping. Shopping in Russia has certain particularities that make it an amusing though perhaps unsettling experience for a westerner. There isn’t much to be said about the glitzy boutiques of Tverskaja street in Moscow and Nevskij Prospect in St. Petersburg. They are outrageously expensive and tiresomely similar to their counterparts in the rest of the world. What makes one’s experience of living in Russia different from that anywhere else is grocery shopping.

Produkty:

“Продукты” is probably the most popular store sign in Russia. The word itself has several meanings such as “products” as in the products of chemical reactions. In the instance of the store name it means “groceries.” These shops come in all shapes and sizes. From a tiny make-shift kiosk next to a metro station to a multi-department store on the first floor of an apartment building. All of them are open relatively late, some operate 24-7.

I like to think that there are at least 2 subcategories in the multitude of Продукты [pradukty] stores.

The Local

Those multi-department shops on the first floor of apartment buildings can be quite intimidating. The variety of departments is dizzying: dairy, fruit-and-veg, dry goods, and meat. All the departments tend to be located in uncomfortable proximity. You will probably get pushed and growled at while standing in line to get the attention of a shop assistant. And this is where it gets tricky. Some (not all) of these shops utilize a somewhat archaic system.

1. Make your selection and memorize the price.

2. Pay a cashier located in a completely different part of the store.

3. Bring the receipt to the appropriate department, wait in line, and finally request the desired merchandise from the shop assistant in exchange for the receipt, which she punctures using a free-standing vertical needle gracing her counter.

Easy enough if all you want is a pack of cigarettes. Now try doing this to buy a kilo and a half of chicken breasts, 3 kilos of potatoes, and a liter of milk. First wait in line for the appropriate department, then make your selection known, listen to the price announced to you by the ever reticent assistant, repeat this action at every department, make your way to the cash register and recite all the prices and the numbers of the departments (for some reason they are usually numbered), pay, and finally return to the departments and collect your merchandise using step 3 from above.

The first time I walked into this madness was in a shop across the street from my apartment building in Moscow. I remember all the local grandpas and grandmas shuffling around in the mud of the early Moscow spring, clutching pieces of paper in their hands, and incessantly writing something down next to every counter. I will never forget the indignant look on the face of the продавщица [prodavshchica] when I tried to pay her directly. I asked for пол-кило [pol kilo] колбасы [kolbasy] – half a kilo of sausage and didn’t quite understand why she put it aside rather then give it to me. Yet in the end victory was mine. Coming back to the shop on numerous occasions I grew to like it. It’s more than just a shop. It’s a social network of sorts. The ancient babushkas chat away with the cashiers, and the menacing looking shop assistants seem to know what their regulars buy. They talk about the weather, the priceyness of everything under the sun, and which колбаса is actually fresh.

The Bodega

The second variety of Продукты is the 24-7 convenience store. These places always have beer and bottled water, potato chips and dried calamari (a regional salty treat that goes wonderfully with beer), frozen pelmeni (Russian meat ravioli) and cigarettes. In short, you can purchase anything you could possibly need at 3 in the morning when the temperature is low and the spirits are high.

These little shops are similar to convenience stores of New York. Other than the staples mentioned above, you can never be sure what you’ll find there. It’s always a pleasant surprise.

I used to live in a building with one of these bodegas located on the first floor. After the first 15 or so visits the assistant started greeting me with a smile and a hello. She apparently learned my purchasing patterns. Once she despaired over the fact that they did not have “my” brand of apple juice in stock. I was not aware of the fact that I had “my” apple juice assuming that I always got whatever they had in the store.  Touching.

 

Greetings: How to greet people and make friends

When learning a new language and a new culture, one should proceed with a certain amount of caution. There will be pitfalls along the way, where your “knowledge” will actually hinder your advances in mastering the subject.

 

For example, the word “babushka” means “an old lady, “ rather than just “a girl” as some of my American acquaintances seem to believe. But “babushka” is so much more than just an old lady. They belong to a whole other species, they are vestiges of a long lost civilization, they’re as old as time and are more representative of our times than MTV. They are fantastic and scary. They are menacing muses that inspired the creators of Disney witches.

 

There are numerous variants of the word babushka in Russian (please notice the stress pattern). You can say babulja as a term of endearment. You could also be somewhat rude (though probably more accurate in your description) by referring to a babushka as babka.

 

Where to meet one:

Easily done. Public transport is, of course, the best way to approach these fabulous creatures. Study them from afar first. There she sits. Non-smiling, judging every move you make, ready to pounce.

 

Imagine coming home a bit tipsy. There they are, sitting next to the entrance (pod’ezd) to your khrushchjovka (a type of building erected in the 1950s-1960s on the then-outskirts of most Soviet cities, lovingly nicknamed after the Soviet potentate at the time Nikita Krushchev). They quiet down as you approach the building. They follow your every move, never taking their acrimonious gaze off you. Once you disappear inside your pod’ezd, they will take you apart piece by piece, gesture by gesture, word by word.

I would like to share a trick my mother taught me when I was about 6 and thought babushkas were evil incarnate. She said that to assuage their wrathful commentary one has to merely smile and greet them in the most polite way possible. So I’m finally getting to the real point of this entry: “How to greet people and make friends with your neighborhood babushka-watchdog.”

 

Greetings:

Russian greetings are pretty straightforward.

Здравствуйте! – [zdrastvujte] – is an equivalent of a standard ‘Hello.’

Sometimes you will hear people condensing the sounds to ‘Здрасте’, which sounds something like [zdrasti]. This form is very common but is considerably less polite. Getting back tho the whole babushka issue, I recommend greeting them using the longer version of the word.

Other options available refer to different times of day:

Доброе утро. – [dobroe utra] – Good morning.

Добрый день. – [dobryj den'] – Good afternoon.

Добрый вечер. – [dobryj vechir] – Good Evening.

These are not as common when greeting strangers. However, people tend to be pleasantly surprised when saluted that way. Try it. I bet your effort will melt the hearts of those ancient Snow Queens selling potatoes and bananas next to your metro stop.
Greeting your friends is even easier. Привет -[privet] means ‘Hi.’

It is not customary in Russian to ask strangers about the state of their affairs. Questions such as “How are you?” or “What’s up?” are reserved for people you know and a reply is expected. This is where it gets somewhat complicated because just like in English there is a wide variety of ways you could ask these questions and respond to them. Here are some examples:

Как дела? – [kak dila] – What’s up? Literally, it means “How are [your] affairs?” You can return the favor by asking
Как у тебя? – [kak u tibja] – What about yours?

Possible responses: 

Нормально. – [narmal'no] – Ok.
Всё путём. – [vsjo putjom] – Alright.
Как обычно. – [kak abychna] – As always.
Нормально. – [narmal'na] – Ok.
Всё путём. – [vsjo putjom] – Alright.
Супер. – [super] – exactly what it sounds like: Super.
Отлично. – [atlichno] – Super.

Another possible question is really informal or, as my mom put it , a bit plebeian.  But I think it’s important to stay close to the masses:)  so here you go:

Чего нового? – [chevo novova] – What’s new?

Что нового? – [shto novova] – Same as above but a bit more refined:)

 

 For a more formal setting you should try these:

Как поживаешь? – [kak pazhivaesh]
Как поживаете? – [kak pazhivaite]

Since there is a difference between a formal and informal ‘you’ in Russian, these two questions differ only in the level of respect/formality you’re expressing. Как поживаешь? – uses the informal form of ‘you’, while the second question should be used in conversation with older people as a sign of respect.

P.S. If anyone has some interesting pictures of babushkas, I would love to post them here.

Friendly marshrutka banter

So, you get into one of those little wonders of the world called “marshrutka.”  What is one to do once aboard the vehicle?  Here are some simple instructions. 

Useful phrases:

Since you have to pay right away and you will not always end up sitting next to the driver, you will have to ask one of the other passengers to pass your fare to the front. It is advisable (though not always necessary in Russia) to say “please” when asking people for this favor.  

пожалуйста = please.  Pronounced something like [pazhalusta]

-передайте, пожалуйста.  [piridayte pazhalusta] - pass it (to the driver), please.

- возьмите, пожалуйста. [vaz'mite pazhalusta] – take (this) please.

Both phrases will have about the same effect.

Now for the more difficult part.  Since marshrutkas do not have designated stops, you’ll have to assert yourself and scream over the racket of the shabby minibus. 

Остановите, пожалуйста [astanavite  pazhalusta] – stop please

It is generally advisable to announce your desire to leave the bus a bit in advance, not too early though, he might forget. Now all you have to do is figure out the location and add it to the phrase above.

Остановите, пожалуйста, перед светофором. [pered svetaforam] – before the traffic light

                                              , у этого дома [u etava doma]   – next to this building

                                              , у метро  [u metro]  – next to the subway

Marshrutka – the ultimate means of transportation by our esteemed contributor Scotty Kimball

Having just arrived in St. Petersburg, my dreams of fashionable downtown-living were quickly disappearing as I was driven further and further from the center to my flat. Add to this the knowledge that the metro station near my future flat had been closed for five years due to repairs, and you can understand the sense of panic that now overcame me. I was far from the center of a strange city with no metro to bring me to civilization. “How can I get to town from here?” I asked.  “Oh, it’s not a problem,” I was told, “Just take a marshrutka.” Clearly, easier said than done. A flip through a typical travel guide will give you a cursory explanation of marshrutki that leaves a lot to be desired. Knowing they exist and actually getting on and using one are vastly different things, and these books tend to skip the little nuances that can really save first-time riders. Essentially, a marshrutka is a minivan or minibus that runs a specific route, but has no specific stops.  That basically means that passengers can get on and off anywhere they’d like along the route.  The benefit of marshrutki is that they weave a web of transportation that penetrates into areas unseen by metro trains, buses or trams. Although marshrutki are not the safest or cleanest mode of transportation, they are effective and cheap (costing usually just a few rubles more than the buses), and therefore are probably the most widely encountered public service vehicle in the city.  Looking back at my first marshrutka ride, I remember standing near the road watching them speed by, and blindly putting my arm out in a moment of bravery to flag down the next one that passed by, completely unaware of what dark corner of the city I was committing myself to. Onboard, I recall not knowing who to pay, and giving my money to some angry woman. And finally, I remember watching my stop go by, not knowing how to stop the thing, and in the end walking several hundred meters backwards. The result was arguably successful.   In fact, using a marshrutka isn’t terribly difficult, especially if you’re willing to try…and not afraid to fail. This lesson then is designed to provide you with the facts and practical language that can be used to make your first trips run as smoothly as possible and get you to your destination with minimal embarrassment.  First, some facts worth mentioning:

• Marshrutki are yellow, white or blue minivans that typically seat 11 people in the back and 2 in the front, not including the driver.  Larger minibus-marshrutki are now also on the streets which hold as many as can fit…which tends to be a lot.
• Before getting on, it’s a good idea to know the number you’re looking for.  The number is printed in large numbers on the hood and the route is generally displayed in the side window, but it’s pointless to try reading it if the van is moving.  Little booklets with all the routes and maps can be bought in a variety of places (on the metro, at kiosks, in bookstores…).
• To stop a marshrutka, just put your hand straight out into the street with your palm facing down, and it should pull up to the curb.
• Give your money either directly to the driver, or if you’re not near him, pass it forward.  On the minibus variant, there might be a conductor with a small bag and tickets.  If there is, pay him/her, but if not, then pay the driver as usual.
• When you want to get off, you’ll have to tell the driver where to stop, or just wait for someone else.  Don’t be afraid to speak up, especially if you’re in the back and want the driver to hear you, or else you’ll likely miss your stop and have to walk backward.