How do you say bathroom in Russian?

One thing I love about this trip is that my parents actually live here and some of the things we do with them are not typical "touristy" kinds of things. The following is an example of a mormon missionary outing for the couple missionaries that went terribly wrong.

One of mom and dad's senior couple friends learned that we could visit a traditional porcelain making factory in the blue and white style that we see everywhere. We agreed to meet on one of the metro platforms at 9:45 a.m. and all would leave together from there. Two darling sister missionaries lead our group.

Before going any further let me just say that the amount of walking a person does in this country is staggering. First you walk from your apartment to the metro. In the case of my parents, this walk takes about 20 minutes. Next you board the metro which deserves an entire post in itself on another day. To make a long story short, when you are on the metro you must never, NEVER meet the eyes of another person. Never smile. Stare off into space or straight ahead. This can be particularly awkward if the metro is very crowded. If you have the luxury of finding a seat, congratulations. Now people will squeeze on and hold the bar directly over where you are sitting and all around you. This makes staring off into space incredibly difficult. Instead you find yourself staring at peoples belt buckles or belly buttons, neither of which seem socially acceptable in metro culture. Simply close your eyes. That's your only option. Sorry. If you didn't get a seat you must stand. The personal space that even I, warm-hearted American farmgirl, require is severly compromised. I recently found myself standing bum to bum with the person behind me. I don't mean close. I mean my bottom was actually touching a complete stranger's and we had to ride along that way for some time. And at the same time the person sitting on the bench in front of me was staring at my belt buckle. Awkward.

Finally, get off the metro at your stop. Now it's time to walk. For a long time. Again. In the case of this outing with the couples we are going to board a train that will take us out into the country. One of the couples is late and we miss the train. Because the next train won't arrive for 3 hours the sisters suggest that we take a different train that leads us a little closer to our destination and then catch a local taxi to the pottery factory. It is a long way from the train station to find a marchuka (taxi-van) to take us to the factory.
We happen by a McDonald's as we walk and stop in for bite to eat and more importantly, a bathroom. The manager graciously allows all of us to sit in the little room reserved for children's birthday parties. It feels like a party.
These people my parents serve with are a blast. Anyway, thank goodness for that bathroom. It was the last one we saw for the rest of the day.

More walking and finally we arrive at a bus station. We hire the "marchuka" and get in. We drive for a while and the driver pulls over. We get out and look around. We are in the middle of nowhere. There is more discussion between the sister missionaries and the driver while all of the senior couples participate in a chinese fire drill (not really, but we later wished we had). Soon we all pile in again and drive some more. When he stops this time we find ourselves in front of a small shop advertising pottery. This is definitely not a factory. Where is the factory? No one seems to know. The taxi-van drives away.

My sister Renee has a very small bladder and looks around for a place to use the restroom. Nowhere. There are very few public restrooms in Russia. In the pottery shop the senior missionaries are rallying their spirits after the dissappointment of not finding the factory. We have been in transit so long now that even if the pottery factory does, indeed, exist we don't have time to look for it. We must content ourselves with buying some of the pottery.

Inside the shop there are many lovely things to buy - from table service and dolls to clocks and animals.
Everyone enjoys choosing. Now you would think that after many rich (relatively speaking) americans come into your store and spend many rubles and one of those customers (my sister, Renee) needs a bathroom desperately you would try to help. The proprietor does exactly the opposite. She seems shocked and even a little offended by the question. She insists that there is no bathroom in the back of her shop. Renee keeps holding it.

After making our purchases we begin to walk back to the station where our original train would have dropped us off had we not missed it. It is raining and we walk for 45 minutes. This walk is enjoyable for everyone except my sister Renee who, in addition to struggling with bathroom withdrawal, steps down in a deep hole and covers one foot and shoe completely with mud. Oh, man. We have lots of time to look at the little summer cottages called dotchas (rhymes with gotcha) and their complex gingerbreading and beautiful gardens. This is a time to see the Russian countryside and talk to the missionaries. Even though my feet are killing me and I'm worried about my sister who keeps muttering things like "Doesn't anyone here ever need to go to the bathroom?" and my mom who is very tired I have to say I still enjoyed the walk. The sisters explain that this is a typical Russian experience. And this is exactly what I was hoping to have here in Russia. While I definitely want to see their beautiful tourist attractions, I care more about meeting the people and catching a glimpse of life as they experience it. And this lack of any bit of convenience while enjoying their beautiful countryside is a real taste of life here. So are the yummy tomatoes and cucumbers we buy from a woman selling them from her backyard. When asked about a bathroom she shakes her head but then, with great kindness, she explains that her neighbor who lives next door is out of town and that my sis can go to the bathroom in THE NEIGHBOR'S BACK YARD. Think about the last time you left town and ask your neighbor to watch over your house. I'm telling you, you never know what you may have missed. Renee thanks her and holds it.

We arrive at the train station. This is a picture of a large snail near the train station. All things considered, I think it may have arrived at its destination first.
We take the train back to the metro, and the metro back to the street corner that is 20 minutes away from my parent's apartment. And then we walk. Again. Toward my parent's home here and a real indoor bathroom. Exhausting, frustrating, wet, wonderful day.

P.S. When we arrived home Renee made the mistake of going into the family room to put her bags down. I beat her to the bathroom.