The Scary American

Another day at the museum, leafing through old books and newspapers in search of information on the Veps people. I wonder if the museum staff will ever actually put me to work helping them for a change, instead of just letting me prepare materials for my own research.

In the afternoon, I dropped by Tamara Pavlovna's office so we could plan my next week. A relentless busybody, Tamara Pavlovna strives to fill up each of my days with some activity, fearing that I'll get bored. Tomorrow she and some man (whose name and relationship to her I simply couldn't catch) are taking me around the city, including to the home of a Veps family. At last, my first contact with the Veps people!

Starting Wednesday, I will trek across 3 provinces in the Russian northwest to different Vepsian cities and villages: Oshta, Shyoltozero, Vinnitsy (for a holiday), Petrozavodsk, and possibly a couple others. Most likely, I won't return to my cozy room in Vytegra until Sunday or Monday. I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

After Tamara Pavlovna was satisfied that I would be kept busy, she sent me home to eat dinner and wait for the student I had agreed to tutor tonight. I was nervous, but the feeling was coupled with excitement, as I had spent a lot of time preparing my lesson and thought I had done a decent job. I at least wanted to try it out.

The appointed time came and went, but my student did not arrive. I started to panic, thinking I had misunderstood our arrangement. I asked Nina Evgenyevna if she knew why the student hadn't come, so she called the girl's grandmother and found out the reason for her absence: she flaked. "Her heart wasn't in it", Nina Evgenyevna explained, and she simply didn't come.

At first, I was terribly hurt and offended. I had spent so long preparing and had looked forward to getting to know the girl, and she didn't even bother to show up. She lives right next door! Am I such an unpleasant person that she couldn't bear to spend one hour with me?

Then it struck me that she is a teenager, and to her, I'm a grown-up. And not just any grown-up, but a university student, come all the way from America to do serious research here. When I think about myself in high school, and how intimidating college students were to me then, it suddenly seems quite reasonable that she would flake. The first time I was supposed to meet my saxophone tutor, who was only four years older than me, I remember hoping desperately that there would be a terrible storm and we'd have to cancel. Not because I didn't want the lesson, but simply because older kids are scary.

It's funny, actually; I traveled all the way across the world, thousands of miles, to Middle-of-Nowhere, Russia—all to find out that everywhere, people are exactly the same. Curious, mostly well-intentioned, but flaky.

So, oh well. There will be other students, hopefully a bit braver, upon whom I can try out my teaching skills. To shake off my disappointment, I wandered around and took pictures during the brief period of warm, rainless weather we had this evening. I posted my best shots below. They are, in order: a view of the Vytegra River from a footbridge, the road leading up to the 500-year-old Sretenskaya Cathedral, and a really old truck I thought looked cool. Also, all were taken after 9 p.m., to give you some idea of the white nights of the North. Enjoy.