Friday, January 18, 2013

Two Foreign Languages


MDR TB. Coinfection. Discordant Couples. ARVs. CD4 Count. СНГ.

I have to admit, this is all new vocabulary for me. I feel like I am currently studying two foreign languages here in Saint-Petersburg - the language of socially significant diseases and, of course, Russian. Despite constant confusion from things lost in translation, I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

A week ago Natalie and I had a meeting with the director of E.V.A. to discuss our role with the NGO before the office officially reopened after the holidays. Volunteering with HIV+ children, writing prevention curriculum, educating HIV+ mothers on the importance of using milk formula…I had some vague expectations as to what my time here would look like…STOP. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. And I mean this in the most positive way possible. Here is what I did not expect - I am working with THE leader in changing what it means to be an HIV+ woman in Saint Petersburg. And not just Saint Petersburg, this encompasses the whole of Russia.

My ignorance didn’t stop there. Alexandra Volgina, who I have been nonchalantly emailing for the last few months, is much more than the director of this powerhouse NGO. She is a famous activist in this country and is internationally renown for her work within the HIV/AIDS sphere. One of the first women to openly share her HIV+ status, one of the first activists to go to the Russian government and demand treatment for a population that was dying, a woman who is changing the face of HIV+ IDUs.

Here is a bit about her story:

She was the opening speaker of the 2010 International AIDS Conference in Vienna. nbd people….nbd.

The ridiculous thing is, they want me here working with them. I wake up every morning and feel way out of my league – especially since Natalie eats and breaths this public health jargon. But if my greatest contribution is no more than translation work, social media development, working on grants, and spending time with HIV+ women and children, I’ll take it. Just being in the midst of such grassroots energy, working on addressing humanity’s most basic need in a real and practical way is greater than any experience I could have imagined.

So, as I wake up each morning to do my daily (self-taught) Russian lesson, I’m throwing in a few articles on HIV, TB, and organizations like UNAIDS. I have the distinct feeling that just as my mind settles back into thinking and speaking in Russian, I will also adapt to life in the public health sphere.

To learn more about E.V.A. check out there website:
(I’m currently working on the English version of this website, and I apologize that I haven’t been able to translate more of its content…check back in a few weeks)

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Coffee Meets Кофе

Tamping. Steaming. Pouring. Bitter aromas swirl about the coffee bar. They are intoxicating to this Seattleite far away from her snobbish coffee culture. So elitist that she imagined Russia incapable of true espresso appreciation. In the same way that our American streets are littered with sugary ventis of Starbucks and Tullys, Saint Petersburg also has her over-priced and over-populated "Coffee House" and "Shokoladnitsa".

But to explain the discovery of such a gem...

It all started with a shower curtain, as do most good adventures. Natalie and I set off to find "Окей," a sort of Russian Target, where we would be able to find many of our apartment necessities. Guided by my terrible sense of direction, it was soon clear that we were a bit lost. Naturally, I suggested we wander down a somewhat bleak alley. In my experience, most supermarket chains choose store locations at the end of dark and discreet alleyways. The narrow walkway, no more than a glorified sheet of ice, became a maze winding between the backs of shops with an occasional bar and unappetizing shashlik restaurant. I finally suggested we turn around after finding ourselves at a dead end surrounded by trash piles. There was certainly no "Окей" here. And no shower curtain.

Perhaps it was intuition, perhaps it was a sixth sense, but something drew me towards a brightly lit window near one of those potent trash piles. La Marzocco? Polished to perfection? And not just one, but three pristine espresso machines started back at me through the window. The shop's clean white walls were filled with tasteful canvases displaying coffee varieties and their origins. Heaven. This had to be coffee heaven.

Confused as to what this glorious place might be, I urged Natalie to ring the bell. For some reason, a tall and striking Russian decided to let us in. He asked us what we might need. A jumble of Russian swirled around in my head "lost...окей...coffee...seattle...what?" So instead I blurted out, "Do you speak English?" Of course. Of course there was an English gentleman there who explained we were in a local Russian coffee roastery and barista training location, and would we like a free sample, and Окей is just a few blocks up in the Галерия.

Hello. I love you.

So we've been enjoying the surprise of locally roasted Russian coffee in our newly purchased french press. But as much as home brewed coffee is wonderful, everyone needs a good americano, a hipster barista and an eclectic setting to inspire both creativity and study. So, with a little research, we found Lebedev Cafe and Studio. Where the coffee of our English gentleman is brewed, where the barista has dreads, and where the light fixtures are cheese graters. Where I sit now, writing, not certain whether I'm in Russia or Seattle.

Moral: Follow your intuition (even if it is down a dark alley (if something bad results from this advice I take no responsibility)) and know that good coffee can always be found.

Week One: Snapshots of Moscow

Moscow Graffiti Wall

Victory Park

Frozen Palace

One of Moscow's Seven Sisters

Red Square

Friday, January 4, 2013

Lessons Learned


After a week on the road, Natalie and I have finally arrived in Saint Petersburg, Russia. We’ve braved Brooklyn and taken on Moscow, connecting with old friends and exploring new places. Here are lessons learned in this, our first week.

Lesson One: Make sure your cab driver knows you are going to Brooklyn, not Manhattan.

Sipping glasses of Shiraz, Natalie and I said goodbye to friends at our going away soiree in the Seatac airport. Somehow we had managed to get our bags down to just 50lbs each, check them in, and were enjoying our last few hours in the PNW with good company. We were then herded onto the plane where we immediately fell asleep until touching down in New York City the next morning. Despite being somewhat groggy, we managed to find all of our luggage and cram it into a cab headed for Brooklyn…or so we thought. Just before being dropped off on Madison Avenue in Manhattan (vs. Madison Street in Brooklyn) I read the correct cross-streets to our cab driver who (I swear) stared at me for a full 3 minutes before exclaiming “You never said Brooklyn!” Now I know, always tell the cabbie Brooklyn. But really, how many Madison Streets can there be?

Lesson Two: Go to Red Square 3-hours early. Or Don’t. (You’ll still have an epic New Year Celebration)

After 24 hours spent exploring Moscow and fighting jet lag, we decided there was no other way to celebrate a Russian New Year than to head to Красная Плошадь (Red Square). From the crowds, the fireworks and speeches from Medvedev, it is on every Russophile’s bucket list. Hopping off the metro at 10:30 p.m. we were met by a massive and unruly crowd attempting their way into Red Square. Between the wall of police who stood in front of a wall of metal detectors, and the mob filling the square, there was little hope that we would make it those extra 20 feet into Красная Плошадь. Rather than head home or argue with the police, most Russians decided to set up camp right there and begin celebrating. Fireworks were going off all around us, people were cheering and singing, and you could hear the popping of champagne bottles. Joining in the festivities, we befriended a troop of Russians visiting from Nizhni Novgorod and celebrated in true Russian fashion. There is no greater way to bring in the New Year than to be surrounded by such history and such joy.

Lesson Three: Pack Light

Certainly this is something every traveler knows. And while I’ve done the 9-month backpacking trip where all you take is all you can carry, moving is a whole other animal. Between baggage check and the many cab rides we had to take, luggage expenses were adding up. Fortunately, I had bought us the cheapest train ticket from Moscow to Saint Petersburg that I could find, although cheaper definitely meant less storage space. I decided to inquire at the train station about checking our luggage in a baggage car, which would also be a true test of my Russian. After a dismal trip to the station where every cashier and information desk sent me to someone different, I gave up on the idea of a baggage car and decided to interpret their ramblings as “figure it out on the train.” We managed to catch our 3:00 a.m. train, but just as I has feared, there was no place for all of our luggage to go. Despite a serious show of strength in which we hoisted as much luggage as would fit in the overhead space, we were left with one giant suitcase weighing somewhere between 80-100lbs.  There was no space left and no strength left to find it a home on the crowded train. And just like that, our neighbors had a quick discussion after which the man grabbed the massive suitcase (despite my protests that it was too heavy) and, as though it was a feather, tossed it up into his own overhead storage space. Somehow our pitiful situation had cracked their cold Russian exterior and we were saved! It was when the woman across from us gave us chocolate that I really knew they loved us.

Lesson Four: HIV has no stereotype

Met at the train station by an E.V.A. employee, we caught our final cab (hallelujah!) to the E.V.A. office and our apartment. With little idea of what our living situation would be like, I can easily say that the apartment beat all expectations. Spacious, filled with HIV prevention paraphernalia, and very Russian, it was no stretch to imagine this as our home and work place for the next year. After dropping our luggage in our room, we joined a celebration for a women’s HIV support group. To begin this experience surrounded by women from all different walks of life, yet who are all infected by HIV, was a reminder that this disease has no one face and no one stereotype. Throughout this next year, as I listen to the stories of women and children affected by HIV, I know that my own story will change and grow because of them.