Calvary Chapel

While I hadn't originally thought that I would be ready to attend church on the first Sunday morning I was in St. Petersburg, I didn't really know what else to do with myself, so I figured that I would try to find the Calvary Chapel that I had researched from America.  As a matter of fact, in typical me fashion, I had not only found their website but Google Map-ped their address and my own and printed out directions.  As it turns out, it's really not very far from my apartment (actually, I don't feel that anything is, especially after walking around Belgrade for a week with Nikola.  I would much rather walk places than attempt a bus or the metro).  So, I got up at 8 on Sunday morning and got all ready for church, taking care to dress in my nicest clothes and spending extra time on my hair and makeup (girls in Russia actually do look nicer when going out of the house than they do in America, so even though it was a Calvary Chapel I guessed that people would look nicer than back home, so I should too).  T.T. came back to the apartment at 8:30 and told me that she had attended the early service at her church (which I assume is Russian Orthodox, but I don't know) at 7am.  She said they also have a service at 10am, but I was impressed that she went to the 7am service.  Upon learning that I also wanted to attend church (and Latalia too, as I had asked her last night) she asked whether I usually did.  When I told her that I was accustomed to attending multiple services per week, she seemed to approve and asked whether most people in America went to church.  What a question!  I answered that it depended on where you were, but at least in college most people did not, and if they did, it was only Sunday morning. I wonder what she thought beforehand about Americans' church-going habits; what image do we portray to the rest of the world?
Breakfast, served at 9:30, was cornflakes again, this time accompanied by some bread with nuts and berries in it.  It was quite good, the berries adding a good flavor to what would otherwise be a rather plain dish.  She also gave us orange juice to drink because I had indicated that that was my usual breakfast fare, although she herself complained that most juices were too fake.  I'm impressed with how much T.T. is trying to cater to us and get us the food that we want, although I'm more than willing to eat almost anything that crosses my plate and have tried several times to express that to her.
We finally set off for church around 10, in order to give us plenty of time to find the service.  I also knew of two other Princetonians who had expressed interest in attending Calvary Chapel with us, but I had no way of getting in contact with them yet (as I later learned, they had gone to the nearest metro stop and waited for a while, hoping to catch us going by - oops, I'll make sure we set a time and place to meet in future weeks).  We found the building without too much trouble, although getting to the service was another matter.  In typical Calvary Chapel fashion, the church has no building of its own - it instead meets in the upper room of a Lutheran Cathedral.  Latalia and I couldn't find anything about Calvary Chapel on the bulletin board outside the cathedral (of course, it didn't help that it was all in Russian) but we eventually ventured inside and upstairs and, after a wrong turn or two, found ourselves in a large room in which were set up pews with plastic chairs behind them.  There was a stage at the front of the room on which stood the praise and worship team, rehearsing for the upcoming service.  Although I couldn't understand the words they were singing, I recognized the tune - it was Holy, Holy, Holy, a song that we have often sung at Calvary Chapel Central Maine in the last few years!!!  It was, not surprisingly, translated into Russian (which, as far as I'm concerned, is even cooler!) and beside the stage was a projector screen onto which I correctly assumed the words would be projected once the service started.  Everywhere I looked I saw things that were distinctly Calvary Chapel, from the instruments in the worship band to the drumset in the corner to the symbol of the dove to the communion being prepared in the back, and I was beaming from ear to ear.  I had gone all the way across the globe only to find myself at home. 
Latalia and I found a Russian-English Bible on a shelf on one side of the room and took our seats, waiting for the service to begin.  It was just like home - we sang the same songs with the words up on the screen (my favorite was Heart of Worship) and I was glad that I had studied "Christian" vocabulary in Russian before coming, since I was able to understand the general meaning of most of what we sung (which my knowledge of the English versions of the songs also greatly helped).  After worship, we were told to "greet one another in the name of the Lord" (in Russian) before we sat down to listen to the sermon :]  As it happened, sitting directly behind us was a Canadian woman, Betty, and Latalia and I were more than relieved to find a native English speaker (as I rather suspected that we would, since Calvary Chapel Central St. Petersburg is a church plant from the US).  We introduced ourselves and Betty congratulated us on so soon finding a church to attend, at which I explained that I attend a Calvary Chapel back in the States and was more than happy to find one here.  Then the pastor stood up to speak (and, unlike back home in Maine, he actually had to ask people to sit down - I bet that's a cultural thing :]).  He preached in Russian, but he had an English translator (to my great relief), and the sermon was on Revelation 11:1-22.  Just as it would be at home, the pastor explained that the foundational principle of Calvary Chapel was to read the Word of God, and so that was the priority every time the church gathered.  No topical sermons, just readin' and 'splainin' (as Pastor Ken would say :]). 
After the service, Betty invited us to lunch, which invitationn we gratefully accepted.  We went to Frikadelki (it means meatball in Russian) and the system there was different than anything I've ever seen at a restaurant.  It was very similar to an a la carte cafeteria, except that the food was edible: it was all on individual plates or in warming containers, and the customers picked up a tray and silverware from the beginning of the line and then selected what they wanted to eat.  At the end, the prices for each item selected were totaled and you paid for whatever you took.  Not something completely new, but I had never seen a restaurant set up like this.  I selected some mors (a sort of very bitter fruit juice that I didn't end up liking), a piece of chicken, and a roll with ham and cheese in it.  The total came to 158 rubles - about $5.  That's pretty good for a decent-sized meal.  We talked more with Betty over lunch and when she learned that we had a shopping list, she offered to help us find what we were looking for.  Latalia needed a bath towel (T.T. didn't give either of us one, but fortunately I can use my travel towel), and we both wanted to find a place to get bottled water and some different tea (I still had high hopes of finding some that I liked).  We visited several stores but were unsuccessful, so we bid adieu to Betty after exchanging telephone numbers and telling her that we'd be back in chuch the next week. 
On the way home we stopped in a small produkti; these are very common in Russia and are small grocery stores, usually privately owned and many advertise that they are open 24 hours.  Here we were successful - we found bottled water for about $.50 and a package of Pickwick assorted fruit teas that looked promising.  Before returning to the apartment we decided to find the institute where we would be having classes the next day, to avoid the hassle of getting lost in the morning.  It also isn't far from our apartment, about a 20-minute walk, and we found it with no trouble.  On the way back we found a good-sized department store and looked around inside it, but didn't see any bath towels; however, it was still good to know, since we could buy most other things there.  When we finally came back to the apartment, it was 4:00, and we were the only ones home.  We talked together for a while (in English) about various things, mostly comparing backgrounds and preferences.  We're remarkably similar, since she grew up in a small town in West Virginia and this is also her first time outside the country.  At 6, Jenya returned home and made us supper; a different soup this time with potatoes, onions, and carrots.  I liked it reasonably well, although I've never been much of a soup person (when I was younger, it was the one meal I would refuse to eat).  Latalia, however, has a more sensitive stomach and so she must be careful about consuming new and different foods (and she is also much more petite than I am, so her appetite is smaller) and this has become a constant source of teasing at the dinner table, as I always eat at least twice as much as her.  Russians pride themselves on their hospitality, and they especially like to display this by cooking, so refusing food at a Russian house or not eating very much risks offending the host.  T.T. constantly asks whether Latalia usually eats this little, which she insists that she does; this seems to placate T.T. a bit, although she still constantly encourages her to eat more. 
When, after supper, Jenya inquired as to whether we would be having tea (literally translated, this is how Russians ask if you want to eat or drink something.  They say budesh? or budete? depending on their relationship to their interlocutor (budete is more formal) which just means "you will?")  and we gave enthusiastic assent.  Latalia isn't very partial to tea either, but we had high hopes for the fruit tea.  I selected "Juicy Strawberry" and Latalia decided to try "Sweet Raspberry" (we happened to only find english packaging, so I don't even know the Russian equivalents).  To my great delight and relief, I found that I genuinely enjoyed the tea!  It didn't even taste like tea, just vaguely fruity, which was fine with me as it meant that I wouldn't have to be buying bottled water everyday or risking my health by drinking the tap water (although, as Jenya told us later, they boil any water that they'll be drinking, because they also know that it isn't very clean).  This was really my first great triumph in Russia, and it made my prospects for the next two months seem much brighter. 
After supper, Latalia and I went back to her room and talked for several more hours, about our educational plans, what we expected Russia to be like, my time in Serbia and how it compared - we get along splendidly, and we think in much the same way.  I'm so glad; it could have been really awful if I had been rooming with someone that I didn't like.  Although, I had already known that I liked Latalia and we had actually requested to be placed together.  At one point, T.T. inquired as to whether all of the students roomed in pairs, and told us that she thought that was a better way to do things, since we could help each other and speak in English together if communicating in Russian became too difficult.  Finally, at 10:30, we each called it a night (although it was anything but night outside :P).  However, it was noticeably darker, and I sincerely hope that I will eventually get used to the semi-dusk of the White Nights.  I tried sleeping on one pillow and putting another over my face to make it darker - hopefully it helps.