Chapter 2: The Homecoming

As I was writing this post after almost 3 weeks in Russia, there were certain words that readily came to me in Russian that I could not translate. I doubt I ever actually knew them in English, but I decided to keep them as evidence of the adaptation of my language that is interesting to me and might be of interest to some of my friends. I include their translation at the bottom.

Theme song: "Родина" - ДДТ

As my plane touches down around 6am local time, I observe with excitement the snow covering most of the field. Somehow, even this snow seems familiar. It could have been just my imagination, but it was at least a welcome change after a snowless Chicago. I make my way through the small two-story airport building – passport control, luggage claim, customs. The passport lady (an officer of the police) takes a long time with my expired passport, studying the permit of entry. In Russia, passport control is a branch of the правоохранительные органы (literally, “right-protecting organs” = the police). While I waited, I thought how it might be useful to learn the different ranks reflected by the погоны¹ on the uniforms.

My uncle and second uncle greeted me at the “finish line.” As usual, it felt nice to be welcomed after a long journey. On the way home we chatted easily. They had many questions about us (me and my parents) and life over there in general. Predictably, talk of the weather came up almost instantly. My uncle asked whether I had only brought jeans and commented that my дубленка² was a bit thin. I tried to say I had brought extra layers, but they seemed unconvinced. I could understand them, seeing that it was about -15C outside. There was also snow, real snow, and trees adorned with иней³. The guys complained that it was “a little humid.” At first, I wasn’t sure what they meant, as I considered humidity impossible at any temperature below freezing. The air to me seemed perfectly normal, but I reminded myself that the climate here is normally dry, especially compared to swampy Chicago. It’s no wonder I dislike humidity so much, born and raised mostly among these steppes, close to the continental divide and well away from any large bodies of water.

It was around 8am when we finally made it home, twenty-five and a half hours after I left the Berwyn bungalow. Conveniently, there was now an exact 12-hour time difference between Ufa and Chicago; in a move completely becoming of Russian leaders, President Medvedev ended Daylight Savings in Russia in 2011. Also completely typical with such decisions, they now kept the country an hour ahead on summer time, which meant that in the winter, dawn came inconveniently late. (Pretty much everyone I’ve conversed with has expressed dissatisfaction with the situation.) Thus, at the morning hour when we reached our destination, it was still pitch black. The darkness and lack of human activity combined with my fatigue and a yet unadjusted biological clock almost convinced me it was nighttime. I was looking forward to a nap.

But before I could pay a visit to Morpheus, there was some washing up and feeding to do. Nana (as I will refer to my paternal grandmother for distinction – a term that sounds similar to the Tatar нәнәй I grew up using) offered us pieces of roasted turkey, boiled potatoes, квашеная капуста (lightly fermented cabbage), homemade pirozhki, and her signature baked dish for dessert, called “хворост” or “brushwood.” This was a somewhat unusual breakfast not only for me, but most Russian urbanites as well, but more on that later. I was too exhausted to really appreciate my grandmother cooking and running my hot bath; perhaps also because it was no surprise that she’d be waiting for me at home. Looking back, though, I feel a surge of gratitude for all my family did to make a weary traveler’s homecoming truly feel like one.

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1 - strap
2 - sheepskin coat
3 - frost