Ten hours at Sheremetyevo Airport

 

It was the 23rd of December, and as I walked towards Aviastroitelnaya (literally, ‘aircraft building district’, presumably because of a now-defunct factory) metro station, having just completed seven consecutive lessons, I wasn’t feeling particularly Christmassy. It was snowy - as it constantly is between November and February in Kazan - but the -26°C temperatures certainly detracted from the ‘Winter Wonderland’ aesthetic. I upped the pace, determined to reach the shelter of the train. And with that, the term had come to an end, and I was free to return home. It would be a rush, but given that the 25th December in Russia is just a normal day - the result of a post-Soviet hangover in that New Year provides a universal, atheist holiday to celebrate - I was lucky to be spending Christmas in the UK at all. 

Having made it back to my flat without freezing to death, I collected my things and met my friend Will, who lives in the flat below. Funnily enough, our taxi driver to the airport was the most friendly either of us had encountered since we’d arrived a few months ago - it would appear they’re only up for a chat when they know you’re leaving the country. After asking where we were flying, and learning that we were British, the conversation rarely strayed from questions and stereotypes about our homeland. As we passed a Rover on the street (they still exist?!), he told us of how British cars have a reputation for being unreliable. He even shared a joke with us, which I’d roughly translate as ‘Why did the two Land Rover owners not say hello to each other at the bar? Because they’d already caught up at the auto repair shop earlier.’ He later went on to talk about his love for English cinema, and said one of his favourite films was ‘Green Street’, popular among Russians who glorify the hooliganism of English football in the 80s and 90s. He was quick to point out, however, that he was vehemently opposed to this behaviour in real life. The hour drive flew by, and we eventually arrived at the airport in good time for our flight. 

Waiting to board our flight to Moscow 
in -26°C temperatures 

 

The departures area at Kazan Airport is small and low-key, a far cry from what you’d find at Heathrow. There were a series of quirks that you’d only find in Russia. Among them were stalls selling all sorts of oddities - highlights include bottles of bear and badger fat, which apparently have medicinal qualities of which I’m unconvinced. Neglecting to purchase any of the questionable animal products on offer, I opted instead for what can be best described as a knock-off Russian Costa Coffee. The staff wore Costa uniforms, and some of the cups and plates were Costa-branded, but the shop itself went under an entirely different name. It wasn’t exactly what I expected to see in Tatarstan. 

Badger and bear fat for sale, at 1200
rubles(£12-ish) a piece 

After a short hour and a half flight, we made it to Moscow in one piece. We now had the task of navigating ourselves from Vnukovo Airport (a smaller airport used mainly for internal flights) to Sheremetyevo (Moscow’s largest airport). Stepping out to the taxi rank, it was pandemonium. We were swiftly approached by people trying to convince us to take a taxi with them, who continued to do so even after we’d explained that we’d already booked a Yandex Taxi (Russian equivalent of Uber). The sound of car horns was deafening as the never ending supply of taxis tussled for prime position. After eventually finding ours, the driver immediately asked us if he could stop for petrol. We weren’t short of time, so granted him permission. However, having filled up his tank, he then told us that he’d forgotten his card at home, and asked if we could foot the bill. I’m not sure if this was a routine of his with foreigners, but we swiftly rejected his proposal, given we were already paying 2000 rubles (£20) or so for the privilege of riding with him. Sure enough, he shiftily opened his glove compartment to reveal a wad of notes he’d been concealing from us until this point. Despite Russia’s shady reputation, this is a rare experience, and I’ve actually faced far more attempted scams when travelling to major Western and Central European cities than anywhere in Russia. 

Anyway, we arrived at Sheremetyevo Airport just after midnight, with ten hours to kill until our flight home in the morning. Whilst I knew an overnight stay in an airport is never fun, it gave me a chance to reflect on the three months I’d had in Kazan. When I’d arrived, I’d never stood in front of a class and taught before. Whilst the start was stressful and terrifying at times, I’ve gained so much experience and learnt a lot from my time there so far. Most importantly, I’ve learned that teaching older children and adults is a far more enjoyable experience than the younger ones. The youngest age I teach are seven year-olds, and trying to get them to focus on or understand English is near-enough impossible. We are encouraged not to speak any Russian to the students in order to fully immerse them in English. Of course, there are problems with this when it comes to enforcing rules. On one occasion, I took a student outside to explain (in Russian) that her behaviour had to improve - she had kept attempting to leave the classroom without asking. She looked at me and nodded - so naturally I assumed she was taking me seriously and better behaviour would follow. Upon re-entering the classroom - around 20 seconds must have passed when - I turned my back for a moment, and when I next looked, the aforementioned young girl had sprinted out of the classroom and down the corridor. The way I see it, if a room full of seven year-olds don’t want to listen to you - no matter what you do - they’re not going to. 

But with all of that said, I have learnt a lot from this experience so far - being thrust into teaching 25-30 different groups every week. I’ve certainly become more confident, better at communicating and of course my Russian has improved immeasurably. In terms of enjoyment, what I can say is - it’s never boring or predictable. 

But after a hectic couple of months, Christmas and New Year means a few weeks to relax in the UK. That is, until January, when I’ll head back to do it all over again.