Lucky Ticket

In Russia, bus tickets have six numbers on them. If the sum of the first three is equivalent to the sum of the second three, it’s a lucky ticket. And if there is a difference of one between the sums of the first three and second three numbers, that means you’re going to meet someone new. Flawless logic imho. On Wednesday morning, I got my first lucky ticket. I wondered how exactly this luck would manifest itself. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what kind of luck I’d order if I got the choice. A free cinnamon bun would be very welcome. Or instant fluency in Russian. That would be nice too.

Actually, I think this has been the most challenging aspect of my Year Abroad so far – I’ve got a whole year with no academic work and very few commitments, and I don’t know exactly what I want out of it. I mean I want a lot of things. I want to make friends for life in Krasnoyarsk, but do I want to just have fun with them or to try to learn Russian through them too? Or is the best way to learn Russian just to have fun with Russian friends? Should I be focusing on work or friends or studying in my own time? Should I be trying to get out of Krasnoyarsk and explore the rest of Russia while I’m here, or would I regret that kind of extravagance once I’m paying Moscow prices for a flat six months from now? I’m tempted to just go with the flow and take all the opportunities which present themselves to me (which are, after all, quite numerous), but that feels like passive acceptance, which can’t possibly bring me an experience in line with my personal priorities for the year (whatever they are).

It probably seems like I’m over-thinking this massively, but the lack of pressure which this year brings has become a kind of pressure in itself. At university, you are judged (academically, at least) according to a set of clearly defined criteria, and that brings a certain degree of reassurance. You can ignore those criteria if you like, but if you ever need some sort of framework against which to evaluate yourself, you can always fall back on grades. Even if your grades are bad, this gives you a kind of direction. ‘This term, my French audio-visual mark was bad. Next term, I’m going to watch lots of French documentaries. I know that this endeavour will not be in vain because I will see a visual manifestation of its results on my next grade card. I know, in other words, that it’s meaningful and productive, and measurably so.’ In fact, this is all the more useful because it limits my prodigious imagination. I can shut down alternative ideas about what I could be doing with my time, because there’s a higher authority validating the choice of watching lots of French documentaries. I think that what I’m saying (or something like it) has been said before by lots of people. Yevgeny Zamyatin’s dystopian novel We, which was something of a predecessor to George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, raises the idea that people are often happiest when obedience to a set of rules is both possible and enforced (therefore free will is the cause of unhappiness). I think that Milton’s Paradise Lost makes a similar point: pain, guilt and sin begin only when Adam and Eve realise their freedom to disobey God’s simple statutes.

It’s just occurred to me that I’m implicitly likening university to the Garden of Eden and the big wide world to postlapsarian earth. That probably isn’t a fair comparison. What I’m really trying to say is that having to choose things can be difficult, and such is the case with me choosing what I want to get out of this year. Basically, I’m not sure that lucky bus ticket was such a gift after all. The good news, though, is that I’ve just found out that lucky bus tickets must be eaten in order to be effective. I’m off to cash in all that tasty, tasty luck.

Ragoût de boeuf à la lucky ticket...
Get in my tummy