Russia is weird.

Last Tuesday, Slavyansk-na-Kubani State Pedagogical Institute celebrated the fifteenth anniversary of its founding. Classes were cancelled, and instead everybody gathered as the House of Culture for—you guessed it!—a very Russian celebration.

I met Lena around 10:30 to walk through the snow (our first—and so far, our only—day of snow) to the Дом Културы (House of Culture). The entranceway was a madhouse, with people milling around and being directed here and there. We found our dean, who told us where to sit, dropped off our coats (it’s almost incomprehensible to Russians to carry your coat around with you), and found our seats. The celebration turned out to be a three-hour long awards ceremony, broken up here and there with performances by student singing and dancing teams (modern and traditional). I think that every single faculty member received an award (that is, I don’t think so—Anatoliy Andreevich confirmed that suspicion later in the day). At the end, they had a special treat for the праздник attendees—a boy band brought in from St. Petersburg—a big deal! They sang Russian pop songs for about half an hour, and then started an “English disco” set, which they kicked off with a song that, as far as I could tell, featured the lyrics “Come back into the USSR!” and lead into the “gimme gimme your heart song” (complete with corresponding dance moves), followed by “I’m your Venus, I’m your fire, your desire!” and various other hilarious songs that I really don’t think they knew the lyrics to. I couldn’t contain myself and burst out laughing at one point and got some strange looks from my colleagues, but I dare any of you to keep a straight face through that. I have some video (where you can also see some students and teachers getting down with their bad selves in front of the stage) which I will have to find a way to get to all of you.

I had to leave before the concert was over (alas, alas!) to attend a lunch for some of the “more important” people and guests at the institute (I got my invitation for being the American guest). At this dinner, I saw for the first time how several Russian stereotypes that I had, in an attempt at cultural sympathy, tried to tell myself were only stereotypes… but no. The first thing I noticed when I got there was the table setup: this was the first formal lunch I had been to where shot glasses were placed next to the wine glasses. These glasses all got plenty of use throughout the evening, as just about everyone there (about 50 people, I’d say) made a toast. In between toasts, we ate various kinds of fish and jellied meats (yummy…) and listened to the pop groups that had been brought in to sing for our entertainment. About an hour (and six toasts) in, we were invited to all get up and dance. Now, teachers and professors are not known for being the coolest kids on the block, I’ll say it just now. Hell, this is my chosen profession, and if there’s one thing about myself I’m sure of, it’s the fact that I’m an awkward, dorky white kid. The people here were me in thirty years, plus many, many drinks. Imagine the hilarity that ensued!

I was having a perfectly amusing time just watching this, but I was spotted by one of my lovelier colleagues at the main campus (I helped a woman with a translation the other week, and became fast friends with her and her assistant over tea and sweets when we were finished) and pulled onto the dance floor where, would you believe it, I shook my hips and waved my hands and gave everyone there a good chuckle at the expense of the awkward American kid. But hey, it was a cultural experience, right? I got hugs for my efforts afterwards—people were glad that I took part, and I have to say, I was, too.

I left the lunch about three and a half hours in, as A.A. and a friend of his offered me a ride, a much better option, in my opinion, to walking through the freezing rain. I got back to my dorm, made a big cup of tea, collapsed into an armchair, and spent the rest of the night giggling about my day (and watching a poorly dubbed Indiana Jones on tv…). Oh, Russia. What a strange place (as my next entry will, I think, bring home…)!