A Russian Wedding

This past Saturday I got to experience my first real Russian wedding. I'd been to two last year, but both were Russian/Kazakh-American.

My assistant for the past two years, Y., was marrying her boyfriend of five years. Five years is a long time to wait for a proposal in Kazkhastan.

I got to witness bits and pieces of the planning, which were very similar to what I know about planning a wedding in the US—lots of tiny details, lots of stress, lots of time, lots of money. I watched her choose wedding invitations, narrowing it down to three that she couldn't decide between. I watched her try to figure out how to make a guest book (an American thing, I think, since she couldn't buy one here and had to make her own). I watched her stress about the candles at the restaurant... The same things an American bride stresses about in the months leading to her wedding.

I don't know how much the whole thing cost, but I do know that her wedding dress cost more than my sister's. (And it was incredibly beautiful.)  But this is a city where a typical salary is about $300 a month, so that makes the wedding suddenly so expensive!

The wedding started at 5:30 pm and at 4:50 I was finishing up my hair when my Kazakh friend came over to watch Sophia. She offered to help with my hair, and as I worried about being late—the restaurant was located over a half hour drive away—she reassured me that being late won't matter. Then I learned that the wedding I had been invited to was most likely the wedding reception. The actual vows, exchanging of rings, signing of papers, is usually done with just a few witnesses.

I made it 45 minutes late, and the bride and groom had yet to arrive. They came shortly after, in a large hummer-like car decorated with ribbons and flowers. Everyone stood outside the restaurant and cheered as they came out.

I learned at last year's wedding between a local and a Korean-American that wedding receptions here often have hosts/hostesses/DJs—I'm not sure what their official title would be. A woman in a blue dress was in charge of this evening's events. Before we entered the restaurant, she had the bride and groom drink champagne (the traditional way, arms intertwined), and then throw their empty champagne glasses on the pavement.

Then they were presented with bread, and most likely told its significance, before we all went inside.

There I found three other co-workers (all locals, since all the foreigners had already left the country) and they showed me our table. Then we presented the bride with flowers and hugged her and shook hands with the groom. Then we returned to our table, where waiters dutifully served us drinks and we could munch on appetizers. Throughout the evening, my glasses never made it half-empty, they were always refilled. And the different courses were brought out so staggered that we didn't get dessert until after midnight.

I'm sorry to say that I did not find the appetizers to be very appealing. Ther were some cold cuts of unkown meat, some salads, including one with fish (but none of the “American”-style salad of fresh lettuce and vegetables). The bread was good, as was the one platter of fresh veggies.

The evening—which lasted well past midnight—consisted of a pattern like this—activity, speeches, dancing, repeat, all the while eating and drinking.

First, everyone was introduced. The host announced a group of people, such as the bride's mother's coworkers, and they all stood up and everyone clapped.

The next activity was a magician. I've never actually seen a magician live, and was rather impressed. I couldn't figure out how he did it! He put a lemon in a guillotine and sliced it cleanly in two. Then he put the best man's head in the same guillotine, rammed the blade down, and the best man's head stayed on (of course). He called out the bride and groom and turned fire into two doves, which they held. It was good show.

Another activity was a special dance. The groom's mother works in a theater, and two dancers work with her. So they came out and performed a dance for everyone.

The bride and groom had prepared a dance, as well. This was interesting, because it was more than your usual “first dance” at American weddings. They had obviously rehearsed, and it looked more like a performance you might see on “Dancing with the Stars.” They acted and danced to many different songs, starting with “I Will Always Love You.” It was very beautiful, and quite a performance. And yes, I'm getting ideas for my own far-off-in-the-future wedding, should that ever occur.

Between activities, as I said, were speeches. I counted—there were about 10 people at each table, and about 8 tables. A group at a time was calleed up to give speeches. I think that techincally, only one or two people from each group needed to give a speech, but in the end, usually everyone in the group gave a speech. Some of the speeches were short--”I wish you happiness!” Some were very long. What on earth could people be saying for so long?

Luckily, my coworkers had already planned something, and I didn't have to speak. Though I do wish they had told me; they had it writen, and they didn't realize that I can read Russian quite well. So I could have participated.

My coworkers originally wanted to leave before 10:30, so they could catch a bus home, but I am so glad that they decided to stay later. By 10:30 the main dish had yet to be served!

The second coursse (which I had at first thought was the main course) consisted of some purple beet salad and something like meatloaf. The main course was a very large pike—one per table—that had been cut into sections, with lemon slices between each section, but still very much looking like a fish. I really wished I hadn't lost my camera so I could have taken a good picture of it!

For another activity, they pulled out two chairs into the center of the room. The best man had to get the maid of honor from one chair to the other, without her ever touching the ground, ten times, in ten different ways. The maid of honor was wearing a very short dress, so this was quite difficult to do without compromising her dignity. I don't think they made it to 10, but I was impressed with how creative they got. At one point, he lay on the ground, aand his friends helped her to walk across him.

(I also learned that here the maid of honor can't be married or divorced.  So my friend had a hard time finding a maid of honor, since most of her friends were already married.)

Another activity was a dance contest, where the two professional dancers picked the winners. First, several people danced, and a few were eliminated. Then the contestants had to dance while sitting. The next round, they had to stay sitting but couldn't movee their legs. Then they could only move their faces.

By this point, the groom's friends were completely drunk, and kept trying to join the dancing contest, no matter how many times they were kicked out.

A laptop, projector, and sceen were brought out, and they played a speech from a family member who could not attend. A short while later, they showed a music video, a “love story.” When my assistant had talked about this, I thought she meant a slideshow of pictures. But it was really was a music video that the two of them had made, to Aerosmith's song, "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing."

At one point, the lights were turned off and the bride sang a song for us. At another point, she threw her bouquet and the groom threw her garter.  I was informed that the bouquet and garter tosses were new traditions taken from the West.

After each activity and/or speech, music played and people came onto the dance floor to dance. This was fun to watch, as the older people just loved to dance and had so much fun dancing. An elderly gentleman (a former booxer, I learned) picked up his wife and swung her around merrily. People really got into it, kicking their legs to older Russian music, forming circles and dancing around the bride.

Sometime after midnight, before the cake but after the pike, all the lights were turned off and everyone was handed a tea candle. We gathered around the bride and groom in the center, sitting in front of a table with two large candles as well as tea candles forming the shape of a heart. We stood there for quite some time while the hostess talked in a quiet, serious voice. This was the time when the parents gave them away, when the bride became a wife and the groom became a husband. She put on a white scarf and he put on a white cap to symbolize this.

After cake, the hostess announced awards and the bride had to pick which guest got the award. For example, the loudest, the quietest, the most drunk. The prizes were thinigs like sponges and toilet paper.

I would have loved to stay later, but my co-workers had called a taxi for me, and I had only one day left to pack before flying to the US for the summer, so I said my good-byes and left. Although 80 speeches can get to be a bit much, I really enjoyed the wedding. I enjoyed the festivity, the activities, the dancing, and how it was really made into a special event for the bride and groom, as well as  for their guests.

Driving a Car in Astana

The big recent news is that I bought a car. I've spent nearly three years here, and do feel quite comfortable getting around the city, in good and bad weather, without a car. I can use the buses, walk, bike, and take taxis. The buses on my side of town run infrequently, some of them come every 20 – 30 minutes, and there is no set schedule. And there aren't as many buses. Not having a car is doable, but everything takes so much longer.

Two teachers at my school were offered and accepted jobs in Almaty, and they decided to sell their car. At first, I said I wanted it if I had to move far from the school. At the time, it was looking like I would have to, as it was impossible to find an apartment near the school that allowed pets. But then, as soon as I said I wanted it, we found an apartment in my same building that allows pets, and suddenly I had to decide, did I want the car?

Everyone who knows about buying cars in Kazakhstan said it was a good deal. Everyone used to buying cars in the US wanted to know what was I thinking. It's a 1993 Suburu, a basic 4-door car, nothing special. For $5000. My mom researched it and said in the US it'd be $1500. The crazy thing about cars here is that they don't really go down in price as they get older. Which can be good for a foreigner—you buy a car and two years later, when you leave, you can sell it for the same price you bought it (or even more, if you put money into repairing it!)

I decided to take the car, and on the last day of school (23rd June) it was transferred to me. The whole process was amazingly easy. The school owns the car, so I didn't have to buy it. In Kazakhstan, only the owner can drive a car; everyone else needs a power of attorney document, and they need a new one each month. The secretary can print those out, and usually has several to do every month. So on that day, she printed that document for me. I also needed insurance, but I could just keep the insurance that was already on the car; the school would take the money out of my salary. Another secretary translated my driver's license into Russian. The previous owner handed me the keys. I made sure all the documents were in the glove compartment, to be handed over to a police officer should I be pulled over. And voila! I had a car!

(Payment was easy too. The school put $5000 directly into the previous owner's school account, and took $5000 from me, making my school account go negative. I signed a form, agreeing to pay back within a year, which will be easy enough.)

Suddenly, I had keys to a car, and it was time to drive home. In a city where drivers are more aggressive than those in the US, in a city where left turns are rarely allowed, in a city where police officers routinely pull people over. I must admit I was quite nervous! I hadn't driven at all in two years. I had to figure out how to get home, since the roads are so weird—Astana has several super-large roads, like highways, and tons of tiny roads, like alleyways, and few left turns outside of intersections (and really long blocks!) To get home I had to back-track a bit and drive through a mall parking lot.

I was also out of gas, and had to go get gas. Luckily, I'd thought to ask about that. There aren't too many gas stations, but the principal recommended one that's a bit out of the way, but a direct route from my apartment, which she likes because it's rarely crowded. I get gas number 92, and an attendant fills it up, and I pay inside. It worked.

Over the next few days, I got more comfortable with driving in Astana. A big thing is just being aware—the drivers are aggressive, and the police are ready to pull you over if you forget some tiny detail. Also, pedestrians love to walk in the road anywhere they want. Especially by bus stops, so you have to be really careful when you're near a bus stop, people might run out in front of you. There are crosswalks here and there where you have to stop. I've learned to drive more slowly when I near them, and to look for people on the sidewalk near the crosswalk, to try to predict if I'll have to stop for someone.

I have to plan routes ahead of time, trying to avoid going out of my way because I can't turn left. Also I try to avoid bad intersections. I've also learned that rush hour can be bad, so I have to figure out what roads to avoid at what times. Blocks are long, so if you're stuck on Turan Avenue (my street) heading from the Radisson towards my apartment, over a kilometer away, you can be stuck in a traffic jam that whole time with nowhere to turn, unless you want to park in the park or drive into the river.  (Update:  After being driven from the airport in Chicago to my brother's place north of Chicago, I realize that Astana rush hour isn't so bad!)

The city shrinks when you have a car. Suddenly, places that used to take close to one hour to get to are just minutes away. (Except during rush hours!)

The other day we left a cafe with 40 minutes to get my friend's daughter to her ice skating lessons. That distance wouldn't take far when it's not rush hour, but we ended up late. (Part of the time was taken walking from the cafe to the car.) On the way, my friend taught me about driving here. If you want in a lane, you don't wait patiently with your signal on. (In what big city does that work, anyways?) You can just be aggressive and push yourself in, but the best way is to make eye contact! Roll down your window, wave at the driver you want to get in front of, even ask him to let you in. I managed to change lanes on very crowded streets by having my friend or her daughter politely ask other drivers to let us in. And indeed I have noticed since then, other drivers waving at me to ask me to let me in front of them.

So, I'm getting the hang of it. And I haven't been pulled over yet. I've been told that technically they can't give you a ticket if you don't understand, but that they'll try their best to either give you a ticket or get a bribe from you.

I also have an indoor parking spot. The garage is not heated, so I'll still need to buy something for the car, one of those devices that automatically turns on the car when it gets below -20º Celsius. I'll also need a remote device, for turning it on from my apartment, so that it can be warmed up by the time I get to it. Which makes me a bit nervous, turning on your car when you can't even see it, but in this weather, that's pretty much necessary.

It's amazing how fast it can change your life. We were at the grocery store the other day, and I bought 8 liters of juice, stocking up so that when we return from summer vacation, we'll have plenty. I could never carry that much home, but I could drive it home. It'll definitely make a difference in shopping.

Sophia's thrilled too, of course. She's quite happy to no longer be forced to walk and take the bus everywhere.

My biggest concern is that we'll grow to rely on it too much, and won't take the longer, healthier, more environmentally friendly route. We'll see!

Update:  Driving a car in winter...