It took less than a week for my Mom to shower Ira with clothes, books, a new goose down jacket, the whole nine yards. The land of the free and the home of the brave came with many rewards. The Russians were from a town called Academgorodok or Academy Town.
Photo Courtesy of: http://sibircon2008.sibsutis.ru/index.php?section_name=social_program
It was a small city outside Novosibirsk one of the largest cities in central Siberia (not unlike Minneapolis). The story, at least the history as it was told to us, after World War II when Stalin was rebuilding the great Motherland, he knew that Nuclear War was a threat. To protect the intellectual history and science of Russia he gathered all of the smartest scientists and moved them to Academy Town. His hope was to foster a community of brilliance as well as protecting them from long range missiles from the US. It is quite an idea if you think about it, and most likely a story rather than a truth. It’s a fascinating notion to bring a countries smartest together with the intent to procreate brilliance. I can think of worse ideas that have come out of the US since World War II.
The wall had come down less than 18 months before so changes were happening but those changes were late to the center of Siberia. Ira explained how they survived on what they could create on their own, barter, work and the remaining came from the government. With government in flux at the time so was the subsidies like gas, food, cigarettes. Woodbury was looking like the Mecca in the eyes of the Russians and they weren’t afraid to ask for whatever they could get their hands on - although always humble and extremely well mannered. She was quiet but spoke up. She was smart but wasn’t a know-it-all. She could speak but was a great listener. There was something about her that was mysterious as if she had some angle but wasn’t letting us in on it. That would soon change.
For the beginning it was exciting to show off everything, all we take for granted: Bananas were something they had never tried before; juices of all flavors; fast food (Macdonald's hadn’t really reached Siberia yet); and macaroni and cheese. The Russians we found were more similar to us than different. I was brought up to fear the communist enemy. I almost believed they were aliens waiting to peel back their skin and try and devour us and absorb our freedom and blue jeans. I came to realize they liked to dance, and smoke, and drink and especially loved Nirvana and Sound Garden. For most high school students, that’s all we needed. I also cannot forget to mention they were skilled poker players, every one of them; especially the girls - they carried playing cards wherever they went, and if there was a lull or a moment to sit, they would have a game dealt in less than thirty seconds.
They were a year younger than us, considered sophomores as they only had eleven grades of school. But their options were limited. All kids can choose to take the university exams after eleven grades. If they passed they were allowed into University. If they did not pass the boys went to the military and the girls had to find work. The tests were very difficult and extremely competitive. As a result, High School was not a forced venture. You went to learn or you left. No one policed attendance nor cared if you skipped a class. It was up to you to study, to learn and to do something with your life. I liked the idea of independence with a price - kind of prepares you for the real world.
I remember asking Ira what she read for fun. She pulled out a book from her new backpack. Since all Russian students are required to learn English from 2nd grade, they also could pick additional languages and Ira chose French, and if my memory serves her Mother spoke fluent German as well. I believe that Ira could speak a little German with her Mother. When she answered my question she said, “I’m reading Dumas in the native French.” That’s when I realized that we, in America, were doing it wrong!
One thing that Americans had that the Russians did not was deodorant. The first school dance we attended the Russians occupied the middle and hopped and discoed around having a blast. At least until all 28 exchange students sweating with sixteen years of no deodorant came rushing out of their armpits. That was quite the exchange and the dance seemed to clear out pretty quickly. It smelled like old man hair and turkey gravy. Something impossible to burn from my nasal memory glands.
We spent most of the evenings going from house-to-house having parties mixing and talking sharing and playing poker. It was fun and rewarding and when they left I think the greatest exchange I received was gratitude for what we have and opportunity. The real fun though hadn’t begun. The Americans were gearing up for our trip to Russia and let me tell you it wasn’t going to be pretty!
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