…are different from ours. they are more soulful. magnetism from the sun’s rays, for example, is a popular cause of illness here, leading to madness at one extreme and a general dispiritedness at the other. several of my students have also been ill due to the prevalence of a low pressure system. when i ask them what treatment they take for it, they reply dolefully that nothing can be done. because of this the weather forecast has a whole different meaning, and i often check it to see whether certain of my students will be talking the next day or just quietly weeping through the whole lesson.
if russian illnesses are different, then so are the treatments. i know this because i am sick. yesterday i woke up with a throat full of nails. concerned that i would be too hoarse to speak properly i texted one of my colleagues to ask if she could get me some throat lozenges for when i arrived. (this is not laziness on my part, by the way, rather that i have no idea what i am buying – c.f. the story about the mouthwash which turned out to be russian false teeth solution). half way through the first lesson, two of my colleagues asked me to step out into the corridor where one of them had what looked like a small plastic fire extinguisher. try this, she said, it’s better than that western chemical stuff. what is it? i whispered, wondering where my packet of tunes was. eucalyptus, i was informed. desperate, i sprayed it into my mouth, but apparently i was doing it wrong.
- not on your tongue, on your throat.
- (spray) eeugh?
- no, further back.
- (spray) eugh eeugh?
- no, no, no. put your tongue down.
- he’s not putting his tongue down.
- i know.
- (spray) eeugh?
- no.
- here, let me do it. stick your tongue out. no! not that far! there… (spray)
- no, his tongue was still up. let me have a go.
the corridor is a busy place and soon a small crowd had gathered to watch, offer advice, and generally eat picnics. however, with one of them more or less holding my tongue on the floor with her foot, and the other forcing my upper palate against the ceiling with her elbow, my two colleagues were finally convinced they had found the right angle with which to douse the fire in my throat and set about liberally spraying me in eucalyptus. had there been a stray gang of koala bears roaming the area at the time, no doubt my demise would have figured on the ‘unusual crimes’ section of ‘crimewatch’, but, as it was, i merely ended up with the unnerving feeling that i could smell the australian jungle somewhere close by.
of course, it didn’t work, so this morning when i woke up with every joint in my body wracked with pain, i was very clear in my text about the need to supply me with industrial strength lemsip. i want to sweat paracetamol, i said, nothing else will do. however, my boss decided that she wouldn’t let me come to work in case i developed ‘angina’ (pronounced ‘angeena’) which is some terrible russian throat disease which can kill you if it rains, or something like that, and so she promised to bring the medicine to my flat. two hours later, with my head pounding and my limbs aching and my nose running, my boss turned up at the door. i have your medicine, she said. we decided that that western stuff is no good for you so i got you this instead, she went on, holding out a fancy paper bag. please not more eucalyptus, i inwardly prayed, but no – it was half a cup of raspberry jam and a small container of baby food.
- that looks like half a cup of raspberry jam and some baby food.
- yes. raspberry jam contains the same chemicals as aspirin. you put it in your tea.
- i put jam in my tea?
- yes.
- you are a hippy.
- i am not a hippy. 150 million russians know this.
- and the baby food?
- i wanted some. it’s very good for you. i will leave you half.
- thank you.
- you are welcome.
needless to say, i am now fully cured and am currently working on a paper for the lancet about how to cure gout by putting marmalade in your coffee.
