No Russian «праздник» [day of celebration, holiday] without «шампанское» [champagne]! If you’re unsure as to what to do with your bottle after you’ve drunk it all together with your best friend «Ваня» [short for «Иван»] out on the street in minus 30, then here’s a tip…

Let’s take today to focus on not HOW to celebrate holidays with Russians (since I’m fully sure everyone already has expertise in this area), but HOW to congratulate Russian with their holidays! We’ll start with the simplest way:

«С праздником!» - Happy Holiday!

Usually you don’t say the whole phrase in Russian when congratulating someone: «Поздравляю вас/тебя с праздником!» - [I congratulate you with the holiday!]

«поздравлять» (impfv.) and «поздравить» (pfv.) - [to congratulate, felicitate; compliment, hail] is always combined with a direct object in accusative: «кого?» [whom?] and an indirect object in the instrumental case: «с чем?» [with what?]. Here are a few examples:

«Надо поздравить Фёдора Михайловича с защитой докторской диссертации!» - [(We) must congratulate Fyodor Mikhailovich with having defended his doctoral dissertation!]

«Я уже поздравила маму с Международным женским днём» - [I have already congratulated my mom with International Women's Day (8th of March)].

«Поздравляю вас с Новым Годом!» - [(lit.: 'I congratulate you with the New Year!') Happy New Year!]

«Поздравляют ли друг друга с Рождеством в России?» - [Do people in Russia wish each other Merry Christmas?]

«Конечно, поздравляют! Но только седьмое января, а не двадцатпятое декабря» - [Of course they congratulate! But on the 7^th of January, not on the 25^th of December].

Among other important words to know in the same context are the noun «праздник» [holiday, day of celebration] and the verb «праздновать» [celebrate, feast; keep; rejoice; solemnize]. This verb is combined with a direct object in accusative: «праздновать что?» [to celebrate what?] and «праздновать кого?» [to celebrate whom?].

«Как ты обычно празднуешь свой день рождения?» - [How do you usually celebrate your birthday?]

«Завтра будем праздновать Лену, поздравим её с рождением ребёнка!» - [Tomorrow we will celebrate Lena; we'll congratulate her with the birth of her baby!]

From this verb and this noun two very different adjectives exist, and it is important that you try to keep them apart as their meaning is not the same. Though they may look and sound very similar:

«праздничный» means festive, merry, like a feast or festival, while

«праздный» means idle, unoccupied; indolent; vacuous.

That’s all from the Ural Mountains for now. «С праздником всех!» [Happy Holiday everyone!]

Post from: Russian Blog

And here we are again! Tomorrow it is already «первый день ноября» [the first day of November] and that means that «осень» [fall] has officially ended and that it is time for «зима» [winter] - «русская зима» [Russian winter] - to take over with full force! When the first snow came down on us this week, I looked out the window and then turned to my Korean roommate and said: «Снег идёт!» [It's snowing!] Only after a while, as I watched the snowflakes tumbling around in the air outside, did it occur to me that the verb «идти» [impf., verb of motion used for movement in a particular direction: to go; to walk; to come; to come out; to follow] was no where near a correct one to use when describing the way the snow was moving.

 «Снег идёт» [It is snowing] somewhere on a Russian railroad.

Thus yesterday I asked one of my Russian friends who is a Master’s student of «русский язык» [Russian language] this important question: «Почему снег именно ИДЁТ в русском языке? Почему он не ходит?» ["Why is it that snow in Russian language walks? Why doesn't it go around (without any particular direction)?"] «Ходить» is the indetermened variant of the verb of motion «идти», it indicates a movement there AND back again and means ‘to walk, to be able to walk; to run, to operate; to be going around’. She understood my confusion, but - «увы!» [alas!] - could not give me any answer other than that it, of course, would make more sense to describe snow coming down from the sky with another verb completely. The thing is that Russian language lacks such a thing as «снеговать» or even «снегить» [I made up both of these verbs; do not make a note of them!] as apart from, for example, my native language (Swedish!), and thus must use what it’s got. What does it have then? What else can we say when we see snow outside our windows but don’t really think ‘it’s walking’ but doing something different entirely? Let’s have a look!

«падать» impfv.: to fall; to crash; to decline, go down, fall.

«Снег падает» - [Snow is falling].

And from this combination of noun and verb you can make another noun in Russian that describes this exactly: «снегопад» [snowfall].

«Выпадать» is impfv. and «выпасть» is pfv.: to fall out; (of snow, rain, etc) to fall; to turn out to be; to fall to, to befall.

«Снег выпал ночью» - [The snow fell at night (in the night, during the night)].

«вьюжить» is a verb that I have only heard from Russians but can’t find in the dictionary, though it is clear that it is made from the noun «вьюга» meaning ‘snowstorm; blizzard’. I’m not sure if this could be combined with «снег» in such a sentence as «снег вьюжит» [‘snow is storming' or ‘it's snowstorming']. Perhaps one should be content with just saying «вьюжит» [‘there's a snowstorm/blizzard going on'].

The same goes for the verb «метелить» made from the noun «метель» (fem.) [snowstorm; blizzard]. I always have a hunch here that you can’t say «снег метелит» but must go for a construction like «на улице метелит» [‘there's a blizzard outside'] instead.

But since the most common verb used «со снегом» [with snow] in Russian is after all «идти» let’s have a look at how to make use of «совершенный вид этого глагола» [the perfect aspect of this verb] - «пойти» [to begin to walk, to set out; to start moving; (of snow, rain, etc) to begin to fall]:

«Скоро пойдёт снег» - [Snow will soon begin to fall].

«Вот и снег пошёл!» - [And so snow has begun to fall!]

Yet on this photograph we have snow without any motion at all! Here «снег лежит» [snow is lying]…

Post from: Russian Blog

In Russia there are two ways you can pay for public transportation. Either you can buy «проездной билет» [ticket] that entitles you to ride as much as you like on anything you want to - «на трамваях» [on trams], «на автобусах» [on buses], «на троллейбусах» [on trolleybuses] - for a specific amount of time. Usually the amount of time is a month (when you have to buy a new ticket depends on what Russian city you’re living in, sometimes in the middle of the month, sometimes closer at the end of it for the next month); one can buy a ticket for two weeks at a time also. When buying these kinds of tickets there are all sorts of «скидка» [discount, price reduction; rebate] one can receive if one belongs to a certain group in society. For example, there are «скидка для пенсионеров» [discount for pensioners], «скидка для школьников» [discount for school children], and - my personal favorite - «скидка для студентов» [discount for students]. This is of course the most «экономный способ» [economic; economical; thrifty way] of riding public transportation in Russia. But if you don’t use public transportation on a regular basis you might want to just buy a one-time «проездной билет» [ticket] already when you’re on the bus or the trolleybus. In Russia every bus, tram and trolleybus is still served by a person (usually a woman) selling these - «билеты на одну поездку» [tickets for one ride]. And that’s where the «счастливый билет» [the lucky ticket] enters into the picture.

On every ticket in Russia there are always six numbers. «Счастливый билет» [a lucky ticket] is a ticket where the total of the first three numbers equals the total of the last three numbers. If this is not clear enough, let’s take a look at a «наглядный пример» [demonstrative; illustrative; visual example]:

 This is «несчастливый билет» [an unlucky, unfortunate; unhappy, sad ticket] from «Пермь» [Perm]. Why? Because 9 + 7 + 3 equals 19, while 0 + 3 + 5 equals 8. And 19 and 8 are not equal numbers, not even close!

This, however, is «счастливый билет» [a lucky ticket] from «Екатеринбург» [Yekaterinburg]. How come? Because 3 + 3 + 3 equals 9, and 6 + 2 + 1 also equals 9. Yay!

Russians always make sure to count and add up the numbers on their bus tickets, and if they receive a lucky one, then they’re always eager to inform you of this. One can actually call it a bit of a national game, if not even a kind of national sport! Don’t be surprised if you’re riding the bus with some Russian friends and they ask you: «У тебя билет счастливый?» ["Is your ticket lucky?"]. If you’re not sure how to add up your numbers I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to explain. I do it myself, too. And whenever I receive a ‘lucky’ one I feel like the day is going to be extra good, but when I don’t I just hardly pay any attention at all. Then it’s just a bus ticket and has no influence on my life at all… And I have a hunch that the way I look at this is also the way of most Russians!

Of course the adjective «счастливый» [glad, happy, pleased; fortunate; lucky] is made from the noun «счастье» [happiness, joy, gladness, cheerfulness; fortune, luck]. Other Russian nouns that would be more proper to use in the sense of ‘luck’ would be «удача» [luck; success; fortune; stroke of good luck, good innings] or «везение» [luck, good fortune]. But for some reason the adjective used together with bus ticket is not «удачный» [successful, fortunate, prosperous, lucky]. I guess that Russians like the concept of «счастье» more!

Have you ever received a lucky ticket in Russia? Where? If not, then I hope you’ll be sure to be on the look-out for one in the future! 

Post from: Russian Blog

«Грипп снова диктует вам моду?» [Is the flu telling you (lit. dictating) what to wear (lit. fashion) once again?] «Прививка - лучшее средство для борьбы с гриппом!» [Vaccination - the best way to fight (lit. for a fight) the flu (lit. with the flu)!].

Here we find the interesting verb «диктовать» [impf.: dictate] Perhaps you can see that it shares a common root with the noun «диктатор» [dictator]? And how to use this verb, you might wonder? Well, have a look at this:

You should combine the verb «диктовать» with an indirect subject in dative: «кому?» [lit. to whom?] and the direct object in accusative: «что?» [what?]. Here’s an example of what a sentence might end up looking like:

«Он всегда диктует мне как жить» - [lit. He's always dictating me how to live, though a better translation would be: ‘He's always telling me how to live'.]

«Внимание» [Attention]. «Убедительная просьба всем проживающим в общежитии, не желающим прививаться против гриппа, написать отказ на имя ректора в свободной форме и сдать оный заведующей общежитием» [A persuasive request for all those living in the dormitory who do not wish to take the vaccine against the flu to write a refusal to the principle in free form and give it to the manager of the dormitory].

The note above I found hanging on the wall next to the elevator on the first floor in the dormitory where I live yesterday. I didn’t know that all people at our university have to «прививаться» [refl. impfv.: (of a vaccine) to take] against the new «свиний грипп» [swine flu]. Today I read that «Вакциной от нового вида гриппа будет привить каждый третий житель России» ["Every third inhabitant in Russia will be vaccinated against the new type of flu"]. I hope they won’t include foreigners though! I’m very afraid of needles. I think I just might have to sit down and write one of those «отказ на имя ректора в свободной форме» [a refusal to the principle in free form] and try to explain my enormous fear of everything having to do with hospitals in general… You could also make of note of the rare use of the pronoun «оный» which is old and used very rarely in modern Russian. It means «тот» [that] and «тот самый» [the same] and is made from pronoun «он» [he; it].

New words today - and excellent words to use this season - are as follows:

«грипп» - [flu].

«прививка» - [graft; vaccination, inoculation; jab].

«вакцина» - [vaccine; animal lymph].

But don’t get me wrong - «я же желаю вам всем здоровья!» [I really wish all of you health!] 

Post from: Russian Blog

Have you ever wondered what the difference between the noun «дом» and the adverb «дома» is? Read and compare the use of the words in the following sentence: «Для большинства людей это просто достаточно старый, деревянный дом» [To most people this is just a rather old, wooden house], «а для некоторых он же - дома» [but for some people it is home]. Get it?

This week’s Russian word is very simple yet at the same time of great importance in the broad context of Russian culture. Since Russians have a tendency to take their personal relationships more serious than anything else in life, it makes sense that they also care much more about what’s going on within their own family and thus also in their own home than, for an example, «в Кремле» [in the Kremlin]. The fact that Russians put their home life and loved ones before anything else can not only be seen in society, but also in Russian language. Russian has many different words one can use when talking of the people closest to one’s heart: not just the obvious «семья» [family]. When talking about your loved ones in Russian you can also make use of adjectives like «близкие» [folks, one's family (informal)], «родные» [relatives; people who are so close to you that they feel like members of your family even though you're not really related at all], «свои» [literally a pronoun meaning ‘their, belonging to them', but should in this context be translated as family members, relatives; good friends; people living with you] or the word of the week: «домашние» [lit. ‘people sharing one home', not necessarily relatives, could be roommates too].

The word of the week is «прилагательное» [an adjective] - «домашний» [homey, domestic; indoor; domiciliary; pet] - made both from «существительное» [the noun] «дом» [house, home; establishment; dwelling, residence] and the «наречие» [the adverb] «дома» [at home, at one's residence; within the home; home; in]. Basically speaking, you should be able to use the adjective together with any Russian noun when you want to point out that this noun has something to do with your home. Or someone else’s home, for that matter! Here are a few examples of the most common ways in which this adjective is used in Russian:

«домашний телефон» - [home phone].

«Можно позвонить вам по домашнему телефону?» - [May I call you on your home phone?]

«домашнее задание» - [homework].

«Почему всегда дают так много домашних заданий?» - [Why do they always give so much homework?].

«домашние дела» - [house work (and not just literally!)].

«Дома меня ждёт куча домашних дел…» - [At home pile of house work is waiting for me...].

«домашнее хозяйство» - [housekeeping].

«Это не муж, а мечта - так прекрасно он занимается домашним хозяйством!» - [He's not a husband, but a dream - that's how wonderfully he takes care of the housekeeping!].

«домашняя хозяйка» - [housewife].

«В детстве я мечтала стать домашней хозяйкой» - [As a child (lit. in childhood) I dreamed of becoming a housewife].

«домашний арест» - [house arrest].

«Его на самом деле брали под домашний арест?» - [Did they really place him under house arrest?].

«домашнее животное» - [house pet].

«У тебя есть домашнее животное?» - [Do you have a (house) pet?].

«мои домашние» - [my family].

«Передай привет твоим домашним!» - [Say hello to your family!].

The last sentence is without a doubt the most important to know in Russian language. Always a good way of saying good-bye and end a nice conversation!

Post from: Russian Blog

None of my neighbors here «в студенческом общежитии» [in the student dormitory] are a crazy scientist and none of them (as far as I am aware at this moment in time) are working on a time machine. But the thing is that we don’t really need a time machine in order to travel back to the 1920’s in Russia - all we need in order to feel just as if we were really there is to pick up a copy of «Алмазный мой венец» ["My Diamond Crown"] by Валентин Катаев [Valentin Kataev]. It isn’t a novel. It isn’t a novella. Not a poem. It’s not recollections. And certainly no memoir, not even a lyrical journal… Then what it is? Let’s call it simply «произведение искусства» [a work of art]. A work of art in which Valentin Kataev writes down stories as they appear in his memory: stories mainly about his youth in the 1920’s and his closest friends with whom he used to spend time, read poetry and drink vodka «в Одессе» [in Odessa], «в Харькове» [in Kharkov] or «в Москве» [in Moscow]. Now Kataev’s ‘drunken chronicles’ would mean little to nothing to us - in the year 2009 - had his closest friends not been the most famous Russian writers and poets of the time…

 This is how a copy of the very first edition of «Алмазный мой венец» Валентина Катаева» [Valentin Kataev's "My Diamond Crown"] from 1979 looks like. It was only printed in some 30 000 copies, but had to be reprinted over and over again when it became «культовая книга» [cultic book] in the early 1980s.

While reading Kataev’s work of art - which consists of no more than 221 little pages without any chapters, it’s just one big «сплошной текст» [continuous text] - I kept shivering. Why did this book make me shiver? Reason one: «у меня очень трепетное отношение к русской литературе» [I have a very quivering relation to Russian literature]. Reason two: «у меня склонность к трепету перед русским поэтам и писателям» [I have a tendency to quiver in front of Russian poets and writers]. And Kataev’s work of art is just as much about literature in general as it is about poets and writers. Kataev knew everybody! People who have become in my eyes almost like literary gods after all of the great novels, splendid short stories and poetry I’ve read by them - «Юрий Олеша» [Yuri Olesha], «Сергей Есенин» [Sergey Yesenin], «Владимир Маяковский» [Vladimir Mayakovsky], «Михаил Булгаков» [Mikhail Bulgakov], «Борис Пастернак» [Boris Pasternak], «Осип Мандельштам» [Osip Mandel'shtam], «Велимир Хлебников» [Velimir Khlebnikov], «Михаил Зощенко» [Mikhail Zoshchenko] - are people that Kataev lived with. To him all of these great poets and writers of the 1920s were not simply «товарищи» [comrades] but «друзья» [friends]. Together they did all sorts of things; they lived their lives side by side back then. When Kataev writes about everything these writers and poets did together - about what was strange about life back then, about all of the evenings that happened to get a tad too ‘wet’, about how they were broke as well as when they were rich just after getting something published - it feels as if they’re alive again. While reading Kataev you feel as if these classic Russian writers are coming to life right in front of your eyes. And you don’t need any time machine at all. After a couple of pages you’re already there. Right inside the stormy literary world of a very young, very hopeful USSR - just as young and hopeful as the writers and their creations were back then. And that’s why I shivered all the way through this work of art - I felt like I was actually there!

But Kataev doesn’t write his friends’ real names in his text. No, he calls his famous friends something else and thus allows for the reader to figure it out on their own. This is called in Russian for «роман с ключом» [‘roman à clef' or ‘novel with a key'] and is done so well by Kataev in «Алмазный мой венец» that the copy I borrowed in the library last week - from 1979 - was full of different people’s notes and guesses and question marks and exclamation marks… It was interesting in itself to read what the people reading it before me had come up with…! Some guesses were right, others were wrong - but all of them equally qualified, of course. At times Kataev will give you pretty big hints, though, that you won’t be able to misunderstand. For example when he talks of how he came up for the basic plot behind «Двенадцать стульев» ["The Twelve Chairs"] and gave it as an assignment to be written by «брат» [brother] and «друг» [friend]. It is more than obvious here that the ‘brother’ must be his own younger brother «Евгений Петров» [Yevgeny Petrov] and the ‘friend’ then none other than «Илья Ильф» [Il'ya Il'f].

 How should one read «роман с ключом» [‘a novel with a key'] properly, you might wonder? You could try following my example as portrayed above - with a pencil in hand! I made a list of the nicknames in my notebook and while going through the text I filled in the real names next to them as I kept guessing. It was a lot of fun! But then again I am «филолог» [a philologist] and we tend to think things like this are amusing.

Out of the very many interesting things and people you can read about in this truly wonderful work of art, let me mention just a few. I hope that I in this way will give all of you a clearer picture of what this little book it is really about. I hope to show you exactly how close Kataev was with the most brilliant people of his time, of his youth. Not that he himself wasn’t brilliant; after all, he wrote this, didn’t he? And maybe I hope that you’ll read it, too, and come to shiver and smile and be unable to stop reading for curiosity just like I did…

Kataev writes about how he was in love with «синеглазка» [blue-eyed (girl)] when he was very young. She was the younger sister of a writer he calls «синеглазый» [blue-eyed (masculine adjective)]. With this blue-eyed writer he would play in casinos in order to win money and buy vodka and sausage. And he, ladies and gentlemen, is Mikhail Bulgakov!

Kataev would often drink with «королевич» [from the word for ‘king'] and he was among the first to hear this poet’s brilliant «Чёрный человек» ["The Black Person"] - one of the last poems he wrote before taking his life. This is, dear comrades, none other than Sergey Yesenin!

Once «королевич» [Sergey Yesenin] got very drunk and ordered Kataev to take him to the apartment of «Командор» [Commander], since he was convinced that they deep down weren’t poetical enemies at all, but brothers who loved each other deeply. Who is then «Командор»? You guessed it: the only one to be written with a big letter in Kataev’s work of art is of course Vladimir Mayakovsky!

But more than anyone else Kataev writes about «ключик» [‘the little key']. This writer and poet also grew up in Odessa, just like Kataev did, and they became best friends already when they were still both teenagers. «Ключик» then went and became a literary legend after publishing the novel «Зависть» ["Envy"] - about which I have written a post here on the blog last spring - and Kataev ended up traveling Europe after his best friend’s death reading lectures about him. Yes. Yes. I knew you would understand it straight away - this is clearly «Юрий Олеша» [Yuri Olesha]!

And then there’s «мулат» [‘mulatto' - Boris Pasternak] and «щелкунчик» [‘nutcracker' - Osip Mandel'shtam] and many, many more people and stories left to explore in his book… Too many for a simple blog post about Russian culture. What I hope to have given you today is an idea of what Kataev’s ‘work of art’ is like. I highly recommend that you read it. In the original Russian or in a translation. In the mean time I’ll continue exploring late 20^th century Russian literature… and be back with even more revelations like this one! Happy reading everyone!

Post from: Russian Blog

Sometimes «остановка трамвая» [a tram stop] look like this in even a larger Russian city - this picture was taken on the central «площадь 1905 (тысяча девятьсот пятого) года» [‘The Square of the Year 1905'] here in «Ёбург» [‘Yekat', it's Russian slang for «Екатеринбург» (Yekaterinburg) since that takes far too long time to pronounce on a regular basis!]. Above you can clearly see how it’s done here in the wild East: you must both wait and get on the tram in middle of busy «проспект Ленина» [Lenin's prospect] as cars rush by…

Some people do not own a car. Other people do not even have any «водительские права» [driver's license]. These people have to «пользоваться общественным транспортом» [use public transportation]. I am one of these privileged people since «у меня нет ни машины, ни водительских прав» [I have neither a car nor a driver's license]. But what about this makes me feel privileged? Because I have the constant opportunity to choose from the abundance of different means of public transportation here in Russia! Even though I’m really a devoted «пешеход» [pedestrian] and love «ходить пешком» [to walk on foot], there are times in life when one must «ездить на чём-то» [travel on something] in order to get where one is going. Remember the last post, in which I tried to sort out when to use the prepositions «в» and «на» in Russian? Remember how I promised to sort out these «предлоги» in combination with means of transportation in a separate post? Well, this is it! This is the post in which I’ll try to sort things out in this regard. First we must understand that there are many kinds of public transportation in Russia, and that it functions in a different manner then in, for example, Europe. I’ve lived in Russia for more than five years and I’ve seen a «расписание» [timetable; schedule] almost «на каждой автобусной остановке» [on every bus stop] but I’ve never seen buses keeping these times nor Russians expecting them to do so. Public transportation comes and goes as it pleases in this country. For some this might sound crazy (it did to me also in the beginning) but as a matter of fact it is not the least crazy. Russian public transportation WORKS! You never have to wait for «автобус» [the bus] in Russia. If there’s no bus, then there’s always «трамвай» [a tram] or «троллейбус» [a trolleybus]. But if both of there fail to show up one can always jump on «маршрутка» [a ‘marshrutka'] of which there comes about one every minute in average big Russian cities. And then there’s also to possibility of riding «метро» [the subway] in many bigger cities. Therefore one needs not have wheels of one’s own in this country. Not only because you’ll keep getting stuck «в пробках» [in traffic jams] anyway, but because there’s plenty of other - cheaper and more environmentally friendly! - ways of getting around.

«Автобусы» [pl. buses] exist in many different sizes, color and shapes in Russia. Here we have «жёлтый автобус» [a yellow bus] and «зелёно-белый автобус» [a green-white bus]. Very often in Russian cities you can see «старые автобусы из Европы» [old buses from Europe]. For example, «в Перми» [in Perm] there are many buses «из Дании и Германии» [from Denmark and Germany] and for me while riding them it was very entertaining because I felt like I was back in the past century’s Europe…

The preposition used with means of transportation in Russian is «на» [‘on', ‘in', ‘at']. You can also use «творительный падеж» [instrumental case] with the very same means of transportation and the meaning remains pretty much the same. There’s of course nothing wrong with asking someone on the street on Moscow either of the following questions: «Можно добраться до музея Булгакова автобусом?»  [Can you to get to the Bulgakov Museum by bus?] or «А доехать до Большого театра возможно трамваем?» [And is it possible to get to Bolshoi Theatre by tram?]. But let’s keep it simple today and focus with means of transportation in combination with the preposition «на». In all of the examples below I’m going to use the verb of motion «ехать» in all ways it can be changed in present tense:

«Я еду на трамвае» - [I'm going by tram].

«Ты едешь на метро» - [You're going by subway (metro].

«Она едет на автобусе» - [She's going by bus].

«Мы едем на троллейбусе» - [We're going by trolleybus].

«Вы едете на маршрутке» - [You're going by marshrutka].

«Они едут на машине» - [They're going by car].

Behold my beloved: «троллейбус» [trolley bus; large vehicle which operates on electricity]. Since I come from a country where «троллейбусы» [pl. trolley buses] are a thing of the past - sadly - I was astonished the first time I saw one of these «в Санкт-Петербурге» [in Saint Petersburg] «в глубокой моей юности в 2004 (две тысячи четвёртом) году» [in my ‘deep' youth in the year 2004]. While living in Siberia I further developed my love affair with this kind of Russian public transport and if there’s ever an opportunity to ride on of these babies I take it! Though there’s no real logic behind my love for the «троллейбус»… Behind it you should be able to spot the smaller and very orange «маршрутка» [which is short for «маршрутное такси»].

But when we’re using the preposition «на» together with means of transportation in Russian, we’re actually not speaking of location as such, but of a way of moving ahead; getting where you want to be, so to speak. If you want to express location within a mean of transportation in Russian, then the preposition you should use is «в» which in this case translates very simply into ‘in’ or ‘on’. Does that sound tricky to you? Let’s have a look at two helpful sentences using the word «поезд» [train] which I’m sure will clear up things a little bit at least:

«Вика любит путешествовать НА поезде» - [Vika loves to travel by train].

«Вика познакомилась со своим мужем В поезде» - [Vika met her husband on/in a train].

Of course I had to save the best - and worst! - to last. What is this, you wonder? Let me explain! This little square thingy is called by «русский народ» [the Russian people] for «пазик» [‘pazik'] which is made from the abbreviation «ПАЗ» standing for «Павловский автобусный завод» [Pavlovo Bus Factory]. In some Russian cities ‘pazikis’ perform the role of local ‘marshrutkas’. That’s okay. But very often here in the Urals they also traffic roads between smaller towns and villages and since they are the most uncomfortable mean of transportation ever invented by mankind riding them for more than an hour equals shaking until your insides feels like milkshake. «Не хорошо!» [Not good!]

Post from: Russian Blog

Isn’t Russian language a most confusing language? And wouldn’t you agree that the most perplexing part of it all is «предлоги» [pl. prepositions]? If you don’t think so, then take a close look at the picture above (you might have to sneak a peak under the leaves) and read what’s written on the sign: «Приглашаем вас на занятия в наши секции» [(We) invite you to classes in our sections]. Why must one use the preposition «на» together with the word «занятие», while «в» goes together with «секция»? And things become even more perplexing when you put these two words in the same case - «предложный падеж» [prepositional case} - and receive «на занятии» [in class] and «в секции» [in section] and realize that in translation there’s no difference at all…

When finding something in a foreign language that’s different from one’s native language, like the case with «на» and «в» in Russian language, BOTH of which can be translated into English as ‘on’, ‘in’ or ‘at’, one tends to search for a logical rule to help one tell them apart. Now if this had been Swedish language I would have been able give you such a logical rule («на» [Swedish ‘på'] is used when the location is a public space) but I’m afraid it is not. This is Russian and we’ll just have to learn when to say «на» and when to say «в». Today’s post will only discuss these two prepositions in the way they’re used «в предложном падеже» [in prepositional case, also known as locative case (did you see how I just placed the case itself in its OWN case? «Хитро!» [craftily, foxily; intricately!])], even though we’ll remain aware of the fact that BOTH of them can be used «в винительном падеже» [in accusative]. When followed by the accusative these two prepositions describe «движение куда-то» [movement somewhere], like «в библиотеку» [to the library] and «на вечеринку» [to a party] in the following sentence: «Утром пойду в библиотеку, а вечером на вечеринку» [In the morning I'm going to the library, and in the evening to a party]. If you’re talking not about «направление куда-то» [direction somewhere] but want to express «нахождение где-то» [location somewhere] the case you must put to use is «предложный падеж» [prepositional case]. As an easy example we can take the same sentence as above, just changing the verb to «быть» [to be] and its tense to «прошедшее время» [past tense] and look what we have: «Утром я был/а в библиотеке, а вечером на вечеринке» [In the morning I was in the library, and in the evening at a party]. Generally speaking, the question one must ask oneself in order to receive an answer «в предложном падеже» [in prepositional case] is «где?» [where?]. And that’s the question we’ll try our best to answer today: «где?»

When I began today’s post with the declaration that there’s no ‘logical rule’ in Russian for when to use «на» and when to use «в», I might have been a little too harsh. There is no rule that works for ALL words in Russian, but there are some words that are logically united in a rule that they all need one and the same preposition when expressing location. All four cardinal directions in Russian use the preposition «на»:

«на западе» - [in the west].

«на востоке» - [in the east].

«а севере» - [in the north].

«на юге» - [in the south].

In the same way some certain geographical places within the Russian Federation are always connected with a particular preposition, either «на» like in…

«на Кавказе» - [in the Caucasus].

«на Дальнем Востоке» - [in the Far East].

«на Урале» - [in the Urals].

…or «в» in the following:

«в Крыму» - [in the Crimea].

«в Сибири» - [in Siberia].

Sometimes prepositions connected with geographical places in Russian language can mark a conscious political standpoint. Does that sound strange to you? Well, believe it or not, but I’m of course talking about whether you say «на Украине» [in (the) Ukraine] or «в Украине» [in Ukraine]. A simplified explanation of this way of expressing one’s political views is that «на Украине» makes Ukraine merely a province (this preposition was used predominantly «в совковие времена» [in Soviet times]), whereas «в Украине» gives Ukraine the status of an independent, sovereign state.

Other than this (let’s have an entire post of its own to discuss means of transportation in Russian and the fact that the preposition used for ALL of them is «на», now shall we?) we all have to study each and every word of Russian language separately in order to find out which preposition is used with it. Usually, «слава Богу» [thank God], this is marked in dictionaries. But just so you’ll have a head start, here are some of the most common words «в предложном падеже» [in prepositional case]. Pay attention!

«в школе» - [in school].

«на уроке» - [in class].

«в университете» - [in the university].

«на факультете» - [in the faculty].

«в институте» - [in the institute].

«на занятиях» - [in classes].

«в магазине» - [in the shop; store; magazine].

«на работе» - [at work].

«в конторе» - [in the office].

«на заводе» - [in the factory; mill; plant; works].

«в музее» - [in the museum].

«на фабрике» - [in the factory; mill; plant].

«в министерстве» - [in the ministry; government department; office].

«на почте» - [in the post office].

«в библиотеке» - [in the library].

«на вокзале» - [on the (railroad) station].

«в банке» - [in the bank].

«на концерте» - [in a concert].

«в театре» - [in the theater].

«в кино» - [in the movie theater; in movies; at the movies]

«во дворе» - [in the courtyard].

«на дворе» - [‘outside'].

«на родине» - [in the motherland; one's home and native land may also be spelled with a capital letter: «на Родине»].

«в ресторане» - [in the restaurant].

«на пратике» - [in practice].

«в теории» - [in theory].

«в колхозе» - [in the ‘kolkhoz' - this word is short for «коллективное хозяйство» meaning collective farm].

«на войне» - [in war].

«в деревне» - [in the village or in the country].

«на свободе» - [in freedom].

«в небе» - [in the sky].

Okay, so that was what I could come up with today. Now it’s your turn. What common words did I forget in my list above? Tell me! As always especially welcome are «несклоняемые существительные» [indeclinable nouns], like «в метро», something that could mean ‘to the metro/subway’ as well as ‘in the metro/subway’…

Post from: Russian Blog

Looking through pictures from a couple of absolutely lovely and lazy summer days spent with my friend Marina’s family «в Кургане» [in Kurgan] in July, I came across this one: «Кафе Старая Прага. 20 июля в 18.00. Вход бесплатно (ХАЛЯВА) :-)» [Café Old Prague. July 20^th at 18-00. Entrance free of charge (FREEBIE) :-)]. And that’s when I realized that this word - «халява» - is perfect for Word of the Week this week! I have also seen almost the same thing written «на маршрутках» [on those special, most typical Russian mini-buses; on ‘marshrtukas'] since the beginning of the «кризис» [crisis] last fall and they had to lower the price of a ticket from 20 rubles to 10 rubles: «Халява, господа!» [Freebie, good people!]

After opening up the old faithful «Этимологический словарь русского языка М. Фасмера» [M. Fasmer's Etymological Dictionary of the Russian Language] it became clear to me that the etymology of the highly useful Russian word «халява» [freebie] is unclear. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t use it! Of course we must use it. «Халява» might not be in all Russian-English dictionaries, and I’m not sure that I’m completely content with the translation of it as ‘freebie’. Therefore I think we should take a look at some of its synonyms in Russian:

«Бесплатно» - [free of charge; free; gratis]. This one is the most obvious one and a word that you probably already knew! (And if you didn’t know it before, then make a note of it now because it will surely come in handy!) There’s nothing wrong with repeating since after all there is a famous Russian proverb that proudly proclaims: «Повторение - мать учения!» ["Repetition is the mother of learning!"].

«Даром» (also «задаром») - [free; gratis; free of charge; for nought]. If we in this adverb can find the noun «дар» [gift; donation; grant] it will start to make a lot more sense.

«Дармовщина» - I couldn’t find in my Russian-English dictionary, but I know that it also a synonym and that it translates into Russian as «то, что получено бесплатно или за чужой счёт» [that which is received for free or paid for by someone else].

If you notice that they’re handing out samples of «шоколад» [chocolate] or «конфеты» [candy] at your local «супермаркет» [supermarket], all you need to do to make the one you’re shopping with understand what’s going on is to point in the correct direction and say: «халява!» If you receive something for free, like for example «поездка на двоих в Турцию» [a trip for two to Turkey (why not? It could happen!)], you should use the following construction when bragging about it in front of your Russian friends: «Я получил/а эту поездку на халяву!» [I received this trip for free!].

And there’s of course a piece of Russian phraseology using this most valuable word, since everybody - including Russians, «конечно!» [of course!] - love to get something for free (or to have it paid by someone else for that matter…):

«На халяву и уксус сладкий» - ["Anything that's free is good"; lit. "Even vinegar is sweet if it's free"].

But «халява» doesn’t just mean something that’s a ‘freebie’, it can also mean that something is just ‘easy’, something that one doesn’t have to work much for - effortless, in other words. «Халява» is used in this meaning in the phrase «Учёба здесь - халява!» [‘it's really easy to study here'; or ‘it doesn't take much brains to study here']. And don’t forget that this noun also has an adjective - «халявный»! So now you can say «халявный ужин» [free dinner] if you didn’t have to pay for dinner, and «халявная работа» [easy job] if you didn’t have to put any effort into it at all. Very practical, isn’t it?

Going through pictures from my visit to beautiful Kurgan in July, I came across this one of a very special place - «Музыкальный киоск Высоцкого» [Vysotsky's Musical Kiosk]. What is it? It is a kiosk that plays the music of Vladimir Vysotsky 24/7! Definitely a place not to be missed «в столице Зауралья» [in the capital of ‘Behind the Urals']!

Post from: Russian Blog

This peculiar note I came upon on the wall of the restroom at the university today and couldn’t help but to share it with you, first and foremost because it is packed with information necessary for today’s grammatical note: «повелительное наклонение единственного числа» [imperative in singular]. «Если не сможешь сделать это аккуратно - лучше не начинай!!! Оглянись, возьми щётку и убери за собой!!! Спасибо!!!» [If you can't do this carefully - it's better not to start!!! Turn around, take the brush and clean up after yourself!!! Thank you!!!]

Sometimes you’re faced with the challenging task of having to ask a Russian to do something. How do you make a Russian do as you say? Luckily for us the Russian language has thought about this long before we realized it would be a problem for us and thus it has invented the practical «повелительное наклонение» [imperative, imperative mood] for this purpose. The adjective «повелительный» comes from the verb «велеть» meaning ‘order; say; will’ and the noun «наклонение» means ‘inclination; declination; nutation; mood’, which makes this «словосочетание» [collocation; combination of words] translate into English literally as ‘the ordering declination’. Knowing this we can easily figure out that this form of the Russian verb is used for a special purpose - to give orders to Russians (and other «русскоговорящие» [Russian speakers] for that matter). Knowing that doesn’t, however, make it any easier to give an order to a Russian. In order to do that (ha! word play!) we must learn what exactly happens to the Russian verb in imperative. And that’s what we’re going to do today!

Before giving an order to a Russian there are TWO (2) important things you must first find out about the situation in which you are about to do this:

1) Are you «на ты» with this particular Russian, i.e. you’re close friends, or close in age, or just enjoy an informal relationship with each other? Or are you two «на Вы», i.e. the other person is much older than you, or a stranger, or someone with whom you have a formal relationship?

a) If you’re «на ты» with this person, then you should use the «единственное число» [singular] form of the verb in imperative, meaning that the verb form you use should end on «й» or «и» (most likely, though there are verbs that end on «ь» [the soft sign] in imperative, like, for example «режь!» [cut!]). For example:

«слушай!» [listen!], «смотри!» [look!], «читай!» [read!], and «подожди!» [pf. wait!]

б) But if you’re «на Вы» with this person, you must use the «множественное число» [plural] form of the verb in imperative, which means that the verb form you use ends on «ТЕ». Here are some examples to illustrate this - a little more formal - way of ordering people around in Russian (note: this form is also used when you’re asking MORE THAN ONE Russian to do something):

«слушайТЕ!» [listen!], «смотриТЕ!» [look!], «читайТЕ!»  [read!], and «подождиТЕ!» [pf. wait!]

(Did you see how the verb forms in plural are different from the ones in singular in Russian, while the verb remains the same in English translation no matter if it’s plural or singular? Good! Now noticing this might be easy, remembering it is the tricky part!)

2) As always when faced with Russian verbs, one must pick one out of the two possible «вида глагола» [verb aspects]. Also when using imperative we must make the hard choice between «несовершенный вид» [imperfective aspect] and «совершенный вид» [perfective aspect]. Deciding between the two is much harder than deciding whether or not you’re close friends with someone, and that’s why I’m not going to get into this on a detailed level today. Let’s start out «потихоньку, помаленьку» [silently, little by little], as the Russians themselves would say!

a) «Несовершенный вид» [imperfective aspect] is the neutral way to command someone to do something. You should use this aspect when it is the action itself, and not its result, that you’re after:

«Сидите тихо!» - [sit quietly! (plural)]

The imperfective aspect also the aspect used when you’re not commanding through imperative, but actually expressing a polite invitation:

«Заходи!» (sing.), or «Заходите!» (plural) - [Come in!]

«Бери печенье, наливай сам (сама) кофе!» (sing.), or «Берите печенье, наливайте сами кофе!» (plural) - [Take some cookies, pour yourself some coffee!]

When you DON’T want someone to do something, imperfective aspect is also the one used:

«Не закрывай/не закрывайте окно!» - [Don't close the window!]

«Не говори/не говорите плохо про людей, которых не знаешь/не знаете!» - [Don't talk bad about people you don't know!]

«Сиди/сидите, не вставай/вставайте!» - [Sit, don't stand up!]

«Не звони/звоните мне больше!» - [Don't call me anymore!]

б) «Совершенный вид» [perfective aspect] is the most frequent form used when hoping for a positive reply as you’re commanding someone to do something in Russian language. When using the perfective aspect you’re most concerned with the result of the action, and the action as a whole:

«Пожалуйста, открой/откройте дверь!» - [Please open the door!]

«Скажи/скажите как проехать на улицу Маяковского!» - [Tell me how to get to Mayakovsky street!]

«Прочитайте/прочитай дома первую и вторую главы!» - [Read (through) the first and the second chapters at home!]

The perfective aspect is also used when you’re asking to be brought something in a restaurant or in a shop:

«Передайте/передай мне, пожалуйста, соль» - [Please pass me the salt!]

«Принесите/принеси мне, пожалуйста, воды» - [Please give me (a glass of) water!]

«Покажите/покажи мне, пожалуйста, янтарные изделия» - [Please show me the amber products!]

And so it is time to sum up today’s lesson and try our best to apply what we’ve learnt to make Russians do what we want. Let’s say you have a Russian pen pal that hasn’t written to you in a while and you really want them to write you a letter. Which form of imperative should you use? Well, let’s have a look!

«Пиши мне!» - [Write me!]: using this kind of phrase means you consider yourself a) a close friend of your pen pal, and б) that you just want them to ‘write’, i.e. you’re not really being that specific, not after any particular ‘result’.

«Напиши мне!» - [Write me!]: with this command you’re still a) close with your pen pal, but б) you want to see a result, and this result that you’re asking them is - most likely - a real letter and not just a simple «привет, как делишки?» ["hey, how you doing?"].

I hope this was «полезно» for everyone, and that you understand that just because you’re using the right imperative form doesn’t automatically mean that you’ll actually get Russians to do as you say! But it is always worth a try…

Post from: Russian Blog