Russian Reflections: More than just a "holiday"
Jennifer LaRosa
Several years ago, if someone asked me about traveling to Russia, I would have said: “Definitely—but most likely as a part of a tour group or at least with a group of friends and most definitely not as a solo traveler.” But in that same breath, I would have also said that my karaoke days were over and songs by the Village People and Kylie Minogue would never again be sung out loud by me. Little did I know that life would bring unexpected adventures to me, in the form of traveling to Russia by myself and taking karaoke requests.
I recently spent some time volunteering in Russia through Global Volunteer Network (GVN), a non-government organization that organizes volunteer work in schools, orphanages, refugee camps, nature reserves and
villages in the following areas: environmental conservation, building and
infrastructure construction, teaching, medical, HIV/AIDS awareness, community
development, women's empowerment, and wildlife conservation.
I volunteered for two weeks in Yaroslavl, a city located 250 kilometres northeast of Moscow. Yaroslavl is a medieval city with a wealthy past linked to ancient trading routes along the Volga River and a historical past, signified by a statue of Lenin pointing the way to Moscow.
During my time there, I worked at the local children’s centre in a summer camp for children aged 9–14 years old. The children came from a variety of different backgrounds; some children had physical and developmental disabilities, and others came from families with financial hardships.
My time in Russia started with a drive from Moscow to Yaroslavl through many medieval towns and country villages with roadside cafes and ornate wooden cottages. During the five and a half hour trip, the program coordinator, Anna, and her husband, Sasha (who were both instrumental in the success of my trip), provided me with insightful lessons in Russian history and culture. It was interesting to hear about what life was presently like in Russia and during the days of the Soviet Union.
I will admit that, as we were driving through the Russian countryside, my thoughts were wavering between “I can’t believe that I’m actually in Russia,” and “This really reminds me of driving through New Brunswick.” since the scenery, with the exception of ancient orthodox churches, reminded me of driving through Maritime woodland.
After our late night arrival in Yaroslavl, I had time to check out my new digs in what I thought was a large apartment block. It was not until the next day when I saw what a “large” apartment block actually was, thus commencing my integration into Russian life and culture. From the moment I stepped out of my apartment’s front door, I felt like I was looking into a window of Russia: the elderly woman (or “babushka”) sitting on the apartment bench, the curious stares from my neighbours, people carrying plastic bags filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, the Ladas traveling at breakneck speeds, and the massive apartment blocks. My first glimpse of life in Yaroslavl will forever be embedded in my memory.
In my two weeks with the children, I learned a lot of things about them and about myself. Each day I spent with them showed me the truth in what many people had told me before: children can be more accepting and welcoming than adults in new situations. Their welcome and friendship were unconditional. When I first arrived in Russia, I received a lot of stares from everyone. I started to get the feeling that the local residents were not sure of what to make of a "foreigner" staying in an apartment block (not in a hotel) and riding a mini-bus (not a tour bus). This sentiment later changed as my neighbours got used to seeing me every day. It’s amazing how a simple hello and thank you can change things. But with the children and their teachers, there were no walls or curious stares—just welcoming smiles and an eagerness to get to know me and learn about Canada.
The fact that I did not speak any Russian was not an issue with the children. Somehow, we were able to have "conversations" and they were able to teach me how to count to ten. In my regular job, I work with junior high and university students. I was a little nervous about working with a group of kids where the age of majority was 9–10 years old. But all these fears were set aside when I sat down at a little table with the children and was given my first assignment: drawing an elephant. The children watched in silence as I drew and when I completed the drawing, there was a line of children with requests to do things with them. Other activities Caedmon (the other volunteer) and I did included: painting, completing puzzles, playing playing board and card games, and teaching short lessons in English. In a reversal of roles, the children enjoyed being Russian language teachers for me: after I taught them how to say one o’clock, two o’clock, and three o’clock, they reciprocated by teaching me how to say 1:27, 11:14, and so forth. It was interesting being taught a foreign language by a group of young children.
During my second week with the program, we visited the children who were not able to travel to the centre. These home visits provided me with a new perspective on life in Russia. At each apartment, we were met with a friendly dose of Russian hospitality—tea and an endless array of sweets to eat—and a glimpse into everyday family life. It was during one of these visits that my encounter with the karaoke machine occurred. One of the children wanted us to sing songs to her, so I was tasked with performing painful solos and duets of songs that I thought I would never sing outside of a pub crawl.
Visiting families in massive apartment blocks both humbled me and left me with a feeling of pride. It was humbling because I saw how children can move beyond having a disability and make the most of life. I felt pride because of what the program has accomplished by creating strong partnerships between families and the local community. The families welcomed complete strangers into their homes and were not hesitant to share their experiences.
Life was a constant adventure during my time in Yaroslavl. But yet, there was something more to it. Something more meaningful than all of the mini-bus rides, long walks along the Volga embankment, and chocolate filled pancakes. You see, when I first left Canada, a lot of people told me that I would need a vacation after this vacation. They said that it would be a busy two weeks and a life changing trip for me. I admit that up until I left, my thoughts were only with how I could possibly finish things up at work and pack all of my supplies for the children into a small duffel bag and not on how this two-week experience would change me. It was not until my last night in Yaroslavl that I actually had time to let the entire volunteer experience sink in. As I wrote my thoughts in the volunteer book, I took the time to think about what the trip meant to me and how it had changed my perspective on many things: children, life in Russia, and Russian culture. I can still remember the first time the children came over to me and introduced themselves by saying ‘privyet’ in cheerful voices. This trip meant more to me than I ever imagined it could. This revelation in itself left me with a lot to think about as I spent an additional week in Russia traveling.
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