Posts from December 2009

While most of the world has already received their holiday «подарки» [gifts (plural of «подарок»: present, gift; presentation; pledge, donative)], Russia is still waiting for the main holiday of the year when it is custom to «подарить и получить» [give (pfv.) and receive (pfv.); their imperfect ‘verb comrades' are «дарить» and «получать»]. Whereas most of the world’s Christian countries celebrate «Рождество» [Christmas] on the 24th (shout out to Sweden!) or 25th of December, «Русская православная церковь» [The Russian Orthodox Church] still today commemorates «христианские праздники» [Christian holidays] according to the Gregorian calendar that was used in Russia «до Октябрской революции» [before the October Revolution (sometimes old Soviet textbooks refer to this time simply as «до Октбря» [before October])]. In Russia we’ll all have to wait approximately another two weeks for «рождество Христово» [the birth of Jesus Christ] as this holiday arrives in the eastern Motherland only by «7 (седьмого) января» [January 7th]. Instead, gifts are given and received in Russia during the night between December 31st and January 1st because the biggest holiday of the year in this country is «Новый год» [New Year]. The blog’s «дорогие читатели» [dear readers] probably all knew about this interesting fact, not only because I’ve blogged about it here and there before, but also because it is one of the first things a Russophile finds out when getting acquainted with Russian traditions. All you need to do in order to confirm the importance of «Новый год» [New Year] to Russian culture is watch the movie «Ирония судьбы, или С лёгким паром!» ["The Irony of Fate, or Enjoy Your Bath!"]. It is shown on Russian TV numerous times around New Year’s Eve (that’s the tradition) and thus impossible to miss. But let’s talk about that movie some other time. Today’s all about «подарки» [presents, gifts]!

This year we didn’t have a proper «ёлка» [fir tree, cone-bearing evergreen tree], but something more resembling a «куст» [bush, shrub; cluster]. Nevertheless, there were plenty of «подарки под нашим рождественским кустом» [gifts under our Christmas bush].

In Russia it is not mandatory to wrap «новогодние подарки» [New Year's gifts]. This might sound strange to us who have been brought up thinking that creating imaginative wrapping is half the fun of giving (and receiving!) gifts – be it for Christmas or for your birthday. For example, in late November I discussed with Russian students in my Swedish class what they wanted for New Year’s this year. I told them that in Sweden we separate the two possible kinds of presents one can receive: «мягкие подарки» [soft gifts] and «твёрдые подарки» [hard gifts]. They all looked like big question marks when I said this. Thus I was forced to explain that ‘soft gifts’ are such things that make the wrapping feel ‘soft’, like a sweater or a pair of socks, whereas ‘hard gifts’ feel ‘hard’ to the touch before you open them and usually contain things like books or movies or skies. Russians are foreign to this concept mainly because they don’t wrap their gifts, but place them inside «подарочные упаковки» [(plural) gift packages] which resemble small, square-shaped bags. These bags come in all kinds of sizes and are often very beautifully and seasonally decorated – sometimes they even sparkle! But you can never tell just from looking at or squeezing such a bag if the containment of it is ‘soft’ or ‘hard’. When I was a kid growing up in Sweden we would always squeeze all the gifts under the tree in the morning to try and guess what we would get… Obviously my Russian students had no such childhood memories and could not relate to this. Of course you can still wrap your gifts in Russia if you feel like it. But you really don’t have to. Often it is not expected. I’ve celebrated «Новый год» [New Year] in Russia five times, and never received a gift that was wrapped. In the first years I’d wrap my gifts, but after a while I stopped and just used those cute little bags instead. After all, «это гораздо быстрее» [it is much faster]!

Let’s have a look at some useful, seasonal glossary:

«подарок» (plural: «подарки») – [present, gift; presentation; pledge, donative]

«подарок ко дню рождения» (also: «подарок на день рождения») - [birthday present, gift]

«рождественский подарок» – [Christmas present]

«получить (perfect) что-нибудь в подарок» – [to recieve something as a gift, present]

«подарочный» – [(adjective) gift-, present-]

«подарочный набор» – [a gift set]

«подарочное издание» – [a coffee table book]

«подарить» – [pfv.: to give, grant, bestow; donate; remember; present, compliment]

«дарить» – [impfv.: to give, grant, bestow; donate; remember]

«дар» – [gift, donation, grant; endowment, faculty; boon; pledge, token]

«принести в дар» – [pfv.: to give as a gift]

«дарование» – [gift, endowment, ability, faculty]

«даровитый» – [gifted, talented; clever]

«дарёный» – [(adjective) received as a gift]

«дарёному коню в зубы не смотрят» – ["don't look a gift horse in the mouth"]

Only two weeks away from the Motherland and it is already time for the usual confession: «я скучаю по России» [I miss Russia]! But that’s not all – also «я скучаю по русской зиме, по русскому снегу…» [I miss the Russian winter, the Russian snow...]. At least I have thousands of photos of Russia dressed in snow like the one above on my computer and looking at them helps me escape «скучная шведская реальность» [the dreary Swedish reality] for a while…

When learning a new language you’ll sooner or later find yourself forced to face the unsettling linguistic phenomena of words that have more than just ONE meaning. The word «траур» which can mean both ‘mourning’ and ‘sables’ is one of the less troublesome cases (not all dictionaries even list the translation ‘sables’) because it is not often you’ll actually risk mixing up these two meanings. When you’re learning new words with only two meanings you can consider yourself lucky, at other times you’ll meet words with three or even more meanings. It can be confusing since you won’t always be sure if you’re using the word correctly. «Не страшайся!» [Don't fear/dread!] but convince yourself instead that you’re brave enough to risk it and that you can do it. Let’s have a look at the verb «скучать» today. This verb is imperfect and has two possible meanings: 1) to be bored; 2) to miss. The key to make sure you’re using this verb properly when you put it in a sentence is to know your prepositions. If you want to use «скучать» in the sense of ‘God, I’m so bored!’ then you need not use any preposition at all. As a matter of fact, if you want to it to express boredom, then never use a preposition after it:

«Боже, я так скучаю!» – [God, I'm so bored!]

Although Russians prefer to use the following impersonal construction when telling you they’re bored (do note that both sentences translate into English in the same way):

«Боже, мне так скучно!» – [God, I'm so bored!]

If you’re not aiming for an expression of «скука» [boredom; tedium], but wanting to communicate missing something as in a lighter form of «тоска» [anguish; ennui; depression, melancholy; yearning, longing for], you should use the most versatile preposition «по» [on; along; over; by; through; in; up; around; about]. When you use this preposition together with the verb «скучать» make sure that it is followed by an object «в дательном падеже» [in the dative case]:

«скучать по чему-то, по кому-то» – [to miss something, somebody].

«Он скучает по Родине» – [He misses his motherland (native country, the country in which he was born)].

«Мы скучаем по дому» – [We're homesick (we miss our home life)].

But don’t let yourself be limited by just one preposition! You can also use «о» [(also: «обо») about, of, regarding; on, upon; over; against] as long as you don’t mix it up with the previous preposition, but place the object after it «в предложном падеже» [the in prepositional case] and you’ll be able to make it something like «скучать о ком-то» [to miss somebody]:

«Ты не скучаешь обо мне – [Don't you miss me?]

«Они скучают о вас» – [They miss you (plural)].

«Скучно на этом свете, господа [It is boring on this earth, (ladies and) gentlemen!]

I know you’ve probably heard this «крылатое выражение» [winged expression] above many times before – and it always the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of boredom in Russian – but where is it from? It is from the end of the famous novella «Повесть о том, как поссорился Иван Иванович с Иваном Никифоровичем» ["The Tale of How Ivan Ivanovich Quarreled with Ivan Nikiforovich"] by everybody’s favorite Ukrainian born Russian writer «Николай Васильевич Гоголь» [Nikolai Vasil'evich Gogol]. The year of 2009 belonged rightly to him – 200 years after his birth – and all of the celebrations had many people wondering: “Has anything at all happened in Russia since Gogol?” And many more people answering: «Видимо нет…» [Apparently not...] What do you think? What would Gogol do, had he lived and worked as a writer in today’s Russia? Would he have written «Мёртвые души» ["Dead Souls"] and «Ревизор» ["The Inspector General"] in today’s Russian society even «двадцать лет после перестройки» [twenty years after perestroika]? 

Recently we had a post about the tricky linguistic side to getting married in Russian – read “How About ‘Getting Married’ in Russian?” now if you missed it before – but the problems with how to define relationships in this language doesn’t end there. As a matter of fact, the trouble with love in Russia starts already after your first «свидание» [here: date; but also: appointment, interview; rendezvous, tryst] with a cute Russian (belonging to the sex preferred by you, of course, myself I prefer «русские мужчины» [plural: Russian men], though I’ve heard plenty of good things about «русские женщины» [plural: Russian women], too). Let’s say that you and your Russian date have discovered for each other what is very rare but sometimes actually happen not only «в кино» [in the movies] but also in real life: «взаимная любовь» [mutual love]. Then what? What Russian word do you use to say ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’? Now is where it gets tricky! Let’s say you’ve started dating a nice, kind and cute Russian girl. The two most common things you could call her in Russian – except for «дорогая» [my dear], «любимая» [my beloved] or (when you feel it is time to get down on one knee and pull out the ring that is) «любовь моя» [my love] – is «моя подруга» [my girlfriend, or just ‘my female friend'] or «моя девушка» [my girl]. However, there is always a moment of confusion if you only refer to her as «моя подруга», since that word doesn’t exclusively stand for ‘girlfriend’ but for all of your female friends in general. And one can have many «подруги» [female friends] as we all know, without necessarily having to be dating them all (not at one and the same time, at least!). Sometimes you can help clear up the confusion somewhat by always putting the possessive «моя» [my] in front of the word, but it doesn’t always save the day.

Maybe you’re thinking that the best thing you can call your Russian girlfriend after all is «моя девушка» [my girl]. Well, it is – at least as long as she is under the age of thirty. Or simply not so picky about forcing you to be man enough to call her «женщина» [a woman] and also treat her like it. I’ve never heard of any man calling their woman «моя женщина» [my woman] with the same semantic meaning that ‘my girlfriend’ carries in English. I suppose that if you’re thinking of calling her that, then it’s high time you pull yourself together and marry her so that you can finally fess up to the usage of «моя жена» [my wife]…

Now it may sound like men have the most trouble with naming their girlfriends in Russian. That’s not so. Foreign girls who happen to acquire Russian boyfriends face pretty much the same problem. After a couple of dates you can start calling your beloved «Вася» [diminutive of «Василий»: Vasily] either «мой друг» [my boyfriend, or just ‘my male friend'] or «мой молодой человек» [my young man]. The latter I have noticed during my years in Russia as being the preferred form of referring to your boyfriend among Russian girls. I’ve never heard anyone ever saying «мой мужчина» [my man], except as a joke (or when I’ve said it myself because I thought it was okay). The problem with calling your boyfriend by just the little word «друг» [(male) friend] is that usually people have «много друзьей» [many friends] and could cause confusion as to what exactly you mean when you start a sentence saying: «Мы с другом…» What on Earth do you mean? Do you mean ‘I and my boyfriend’ or ‘I and my (male) friend’? When I studied «русский как иностранный»  [Russian as a foreign language] in Russian together with other foreigners (mainly girls) one of our professors suggested we make the definition by calling a man that we were just friends with «чистый друг» [a ‘clean' friend]. That worked fine for a week or two, until the Japanese girl in my group once referred to her boyfriend as her «грязный друг» [‘dirty' friend]…

Who needs «грязный друг» [a dirty male friend, colloquially used (among certain foreigners in the Central Urals) as a way to say ‘boyfriend' in Russian without confusing anyone] when there’s «женская дружба» [female friendship] like this?

And to answer today’s post’s question in the title: there’s three ways of saying that you’re dating in Russian. You can use «ходить на свидания» [to go on dates], which is a little old-fashioned and also sounds a bit formal to me. More common these days is to describe dating by the imperfect verb «встречаться» [be found; meet, get together; go with; see; occur]. But you can also call it plainly «дружить» [be friends, pal up, keep company; neighbor]. The problem with the last verb is the same that comes with the words «подруга» [female friend] and «друг» [male friend], namely that you don’t what exactly kind of friendship a sentence like the following tries to describe:

«Аня дружит с Антоном» – [Anya is dating Anton? Anya is friends with Anton?].

It would be better if Anya were to clear up things by saying either: «Мы с Антоном встречаемся» [Anton and I are dating] or «Мы с Антоном только друзья…» [Anton and I are just friends].

And to finish this post, I’d have to say that even though it hurts to get dumped (by a Hungarian this time, not a Russian, mind you – but really it makes no difference as I couldn’t pronounce either of their last names and that’s a sure sign you’re not really supposed to marry that person if adding their last name to yours means you’ll spend the rest of your life unable to introduce yourself properly to other people), in Russian language it is much simpler to be single!

«План мой был таков:» [My plan was like this:] to write at least one post before «я уехала из России» [I left Russia] on Friday morning, but this plan proved impossible to carry out during my «последняя неделя в России» [last week in Russia]. During my last week at Ural State University I had to make a try at passing as many «зачёты» as I could (plural from the word «зачёт» meaning [‘credit'], but here it is used the context of classes for which there are only two possible grades you can receive: «зачтено» [‘passed'] or «незачтено» [‘not passed']. This word comes from the verb «зачесть» [‘to consider something done', ‘to give credit for something']). This had to be done already now «в декабре» [in December] because I will return to Russia only «в январе» [in January] and by then the fall semester will be long gone. I tried hard but failed at being completely successful in this – «я сдала только три из пяти зачётов» [I only received three out of five credits]. But I say as the Russians would: «Ладно!» [all right, okay, fine, good; fair enough!].  My last week in the country coincided with my first week after recovering from sickness, thus involved seeing «большое количество друзей» [a large quantity of friends] as well as consuming «большое количество питья» [a large quantity of drinks, quencher, beverages] – yes, occasionally people in Russia (and not merely Russians!) drink. In other words, during my last week «я была занята важными делами» [I was busy/occupied with important things] and incapable to get around to blogging about grammar (this said doesn’t mean I don’t have lots of ideas for such posts!).

I took this picture «в подъезде» [porch; entrance; driveway, access; approach - here used in the context of ‘main staircase'] while visiting my friend the week before leaving. I asked her in concern: «Вы получаете почту?» [Do you (plural) get mail?]. She answered with a smile: «Наверно, не всё…» [Most likely not all...].

Yesterday I woke up – «в Швеции» [in Sweden], mind you – and thought to myself: «Написать бы мне пост про какую-нибудь новость из России сегодня!» [Why not write a post about some kind of news story from Russia today!] Already last week did I start thinking about writing a few words here about this interesting piece of news from Saint Petersburg: «В Санкт-Петербурге открылся тематический отель по Ф. Достоевскому» [In Saint Petersburg a Dostoevsky-themed hotel has opened]. But as I was browsing through Russian news sites on Sunday morning, I came across another news story that touched me to tears both because is it a great tragedy, but also it hit close to home for me (I have lived so many years «на Урале» [in the Urals] now that I consider it home): «Пожар в ночном клубе в Перми: 112 (сто двенадцать) погибших, более 130 (ста тридцати) раненых» [A fire in a night club in Perm: 112 lost, more than 130 wounded]. This is an indeed a very «печальное происшествие» [grievous incident] and my heart goes out to all the people in the city of Perm who lost family members and friends this Saturday night. However, I was both relieved and glad when I saw how fast and firm high officials in the Russian government reacted to this terrible accident. Almost straight away you could read that «Президент объявил 7 (седьмого) декабря днём траура» [The president declared the 7th of December a national day of mourning].

«траур» – [mourning; sables].

«день траура» – [national day of mourning].

Today I woke up – «всё ещё в Швеции» [still in Sweden] – and looked out my window to see the Russian flag outside «консульство Российской федерации в Гётеборге» [the Russian Federation's consulate in Gothenburg] looking like this:

 «Даже в Швеции я живу в двух шагах от русской территории!» [Even in Sweden I live 'two steps' away from Russian territory!]. I’m sorry that it is almost impossible to make out the tricolor on this photograph, but I am not to blame for «недостаток ветра» [the lack of wind] that occurred today…

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