Grad school blows so much ass. I pretty much can't describe it because it's just too depressing. Actually, I'm just afraid that if I start talking about it, I'll never stop. Suffice to say that I sent a "pity me, I'm too dumb to do grad school" email to poor, long-suffering Zhenya. That man deserves a medal for putting up with my shit even after I've graduated.

So I was totally going to blow off the Halloween party because I hadn't felt like I was going to be in the mood for hanging out with people and I didn't bother to figure out a costume. But by the time I was done being angry at the Harvard application (who am I kidding, really...) I decided that I really just wanted a beer. Or maybe five. And maybe to talk to Meg. So I hopped over to the Halloween party. It was also snowing. And walking in the snow is fun.

Anyway. The party was at City Bar, which is near the American Consulate, and is apparently an excellent place to either meet American soldiers or super obnoxious American ex-pats. There were some super excellent costumes. Evgenii Yurivich was a frat boy (frut boi po-russki), Meg was Princess Leia. A pirate, a gypsy, a vampire slayer, a nerd, and several cats made an appearance, along with one of the Ghostbusters, President Kennedy and Jackie Onassis (featuring Jonathan in drag), and the Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy duo. My disguise was surprise. Whatever. The beer was good, although expensive. Poor awkward Erik was Draco and won quote of the night with: "I can't sit down—I've got a stick in my pants!"



I got a little sloshed and talked a lot with Meg's Russian friend Valya. She's an art historian, and she's super nice. Anyway, we made fun of one of the dudes who pulled up a chair at the other table of American students. He's a Clarkie, but he was really old. He also liked to talk a lot about how well connected he was in Petersburg and how he'd only been there two months and was working illegally, and so on and so on and all about him and how excellent he was. And yes, the phrase "I want his phone number like I want AIDS" may have come out of my mouth. Whatever.

I was about ready to head home and make my obligatory drunk dial. Meg was a little sloshed and said that I should make some certain drunken confessions involving "the L word." I dunno how I feel about all that. I said it once before I left, and I said it once in a voicemail after I had a freaky dream, but I'm not sure that I'm really up to all the rest of it. I have a hard enough time with "I miss you." Because the other person has to say "I miss you too"—otherwise they're an asshole. So there's not really any choice there. It would make me happy if he said it first, but I'm not holding my breath. Mostly because I'd just die.

Uh. Right. So I walked to the metro with AuTumn. Okay. I'm sorry. I have to stop and tell things a little out of order because I found out that AuTumn spells her name with a capital T and this requires a little explanation before I go on with the story. Anyway. Back in the day AuTumn used to be Autumn, but she had a good friend named JoAnn and was super jealous that JoAnn had two capitals in her name. So one day Autumn told her parents that she wanted two capitals in her name. And her parents said okay. And Autumn said, "I think I want to capitalize the T!" And her parents said okay. So Autumn became AuTumn. WFT? What kind of parents let you do something when you're eight that will make you look like an idiot for the rest of your life? Seriously. What. The. Fuck. I mean, on the list of offenses, it's not as grievous as like, I dunno, molesting your kid or something, but making them look like an idiot forever is right up there.

But back to the story. AuTumn had invited a friend of hers to the party. His name is Hank, he's Dutch maybe? and he's been living in Petersburg for a long time, speaks really excellent English, and has a girlfriend. However, he's got to be about the sleaziest motherfucker I've met this side of Reid Allmandinger. And most of you know exactly how much love I have for the Dinger, but for those of you that don't, I'll give you a hint: many long days of torture wouldn't be enough. Anyway, this dude Hank does not give off a real great vibe. For example. As soon as he sat down at our table, everyone except AuTumn turned to Meg with the "Who the fuck is that?" look. Anyway, apparently AuTumn hangs out with this guy a lot and that makes him fine. Whatever. That makes AuTumn dumb and makes her going to get raped or dead because she doesn't have a sketch detector. But whatever. She's twenty eight and doesn't need my advice.

I was accused of only calling while drunk. Which is not true. Only about half the time. Really. And I didn't make an ass of myself or say anything I shouldn't have. Yay! Another awesome day!

I am a grammar rockstar! While brushing my teeth! So, I was thinking (the way I normally do) as I was brushing my teeth this morning and then I started wondering why the obscene Russian phrase "idti na khui" (loosely and humorously translated as "go to the dick") uses the preposition na. I was puzzling over this and thinking about the various situations that call for the use of na rather than v. Directions... Some buildings... Islands... Peninsulas. What is a penis? Oh yes, a peninsula. Grammar at work! I win forever!

Then I got to feel even better when I called Rob and found out that he broke his hand. Wait, that sounds really mean. I was happy to talk to Rob, and I was sad that he broke his hand, but I was amused that he was enough of a dumbass to break it punching a wall. Especially over pool hall formal. I'd go on and make fun of him some more, but he probably "reads" this and (I hope) feels like enough of an idiot already.

School only mildly sucked today. So it's not really worth talking about. Although Meg chastised us collectively for speaking too much English. Whatever. It's hard to speak Russian all the time. I don't hang out with any of the other program kids really, so I'm speaking Russian most of the rest of the day. School is the only opportunity to speak English, and the feeling is pretty much that you should be able to make the most of it. I actually made my first joke in Russian today when I was telling Lydia Borisovna about what Margaret said. She asked why the students were speaking so much English, and I said that it was too hard to complain in Russian. Which isn't really a joke, and isn't really that funny, but she laughed, which is the first time that humor has been communicated.

But backing up a little, I had email today! I can't even begin to explain how lame it makes me feel to get excited about getting email, but seriously. It's sad that I hear from Alex more regularly than from my parents. But yeah. Emails from lots of people! Mostly about grad school and telling me not to be such an idiot about certain aspects of my life, but it was exciting nonetheless.

Today was also an awesome day because... Anybody? Anybody? No, Claire didn't get hit by a bus. FIRST SNOW!!! That gets caps and lots of exclamation marks because it's really exciting. We don't get the snow much in the Portland, so any snow is cool, but this was the first of the year. Yay snow!

Anton is still here in the morning. There are more blini and lots of kasha. I'm totally in favor of having Anton over all the time. He gets bored with the trains and I remember how boring it is to stay at the grandparent's who don't really know what to do with you. However, I know that all eight year olds like to play on the computer, regardless of what language they speak, and I never took off the Gameboy cartridges that Reed put on my computer years ago. So we learned how to play Tom & Jerry together.

I wish that I could say that I did something interesting, but really, that's about it, folks. I did some homework and studied for the GRE, and then did some more homework.

So at some point in the morning when my phone beeps, I remember that I said that I was going to meet Reid and Candice and go costume shopping with them. This seems like a bad idea, especially since the time that I will have to leave the house is quickly approaching and it's still early and it's Saturday. So I pass on going costume shopping and go back to sleep.

This is pretty much all I did all day. Well, that's a lie. I did some laundry because just about everything I owned was dirty. And I read Pride and Prejudice. Not the whole thing, but I'm working on it. This is harder than it sounds because I'm reading it in Russian. It makes me feel cool. And no, I don't understand all of it, but I understand enough. It's also easier when you've read it in English and seen the movies probably eight hundred times.

Then Anton, the grandson, came over. I had planned on a super quiet Saturday night, skipping the Halloween party at the American ygol in favor of tea and making myself feel smarter by reading in Russian. But plans were derailed slightly by the arrival of an eight year old. He's blond, and actually reminds me a lot of Nate, one of the kids that I used to teach swimming to, except that Anton's older, Russian, and not autistic. Right. Anyway. He's a sweet kid, and kinda shy. He got out all the electric trains and built a pretty elaborate track set-up. I was actually a little glad that he came because Lydia Borisovna made blini, which she doesn't normally do. Yay blini. The best Russian food ever, other than fried pelmeni.

Politologia didn't suck because we watched a movie. That's about all I can say. No, that's actually a lie. I could say a lot about this movie, because I actually kinda liked it even though we did have to watch it for class and it's a fairly typical heavy-handed Soviet film. But it had lots of Jesus in it, which made it very interesting from a subversive point of view. Anyway, this film is called "The Ascent," and it tells the story of these two soldiers in WWII who go out to try to find food to save their village and their misadventures. The upshot is that they get captured by the Germans and one of the soldiers (the one that we've thought is the weaker one) stands up to torture and doesn't betray his comrades, while the other breaks without even the threat of torture. The one who's been tortured then tries to sacrifice himself to save the lives of the other prisoners with him. This doesn't work, but there's a lot of nice suffering Jesus shots and white light. Blah blah blah. I could talk a lot more about the cinematography, but this is only interesting if you've seen the movie. So whatever. Moving along.

After school, I was supposed to go try to see a movie (again) with Reid and Candice. Reid had to go to EuroMed for a checkup, so Candice and I investigated movies. They were either all at bad times or too expensive, so we set up camp in the internet café with cheap wi-fi and dicked around until Reid came back. I did almost all of the little internet errands that I'd been either putting off or just forgetting to do. Like signing up for Hospitality Club. And the GRE. I'm talking it on November 11. Soon. Barf. So instead of going to a movie, we had dinner and then the "one beer" that of course turned into several. But it was good times. Candice tells too many stories about the good old days of undergrad in Texas or about Ultimate Frisbee, or about previous trips to Russia, but she's okay other than that. And I like Reid. Anyway, I also like beer.

I'd had horrible insomnia all week, but I slept well tonight. About fucking time.

The heat is on at school. This is so great. It's still not on a lot, but it's actually kind of warm in the classrooms now. I can now study without wearing my coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. Rock on!

I still have insomnia. This sucks. I'm tired and cranky all the time. It also made me really not want to go and meet my new tutor. But I did. Even though I was tired and cranky and just wanted to go home. She seems pretty cool. She's a good friend of Lena's and is a journalism major and trying to decide what field she wants to go into after she graduates. She is also cool because she rides a bicycle in Petersburg. She rides without a helmet, so I'm sure she's going to be killed. I'm not sure if that makes her cool or not, though. She has a super-awesome mullet. It's really long in back.

I think the only other thing that I did today of note was talk to Rob for a long time. And that's probably not really noteworthy to anybody except me. That was good. I'll spare everyone from having to read about it, and spare myself the embarrassment.

Although I did learn that I should maybe be slightly more circumspect about what type of personal information I post on here, because all kinds of people I never expected actually do read this. Like my boss. (Hi Sue!) And the dude I mentioned a few entries back who I thought didn't read my blog. Well, I don't know if he actually reads it, but he at least looks at it. Along with creepy people on the internet that I don't know at all. Anyway, I'm debating making an end to personal information, but really, what's the point of having a blog if you're not oversharing?

So, I know that in the past there have always been pictures on Wednesdays, but we may be getting to the point where the pictures on Wednesday stop, either because I'm too cheap to pay for permits, or because I'm straight up not allowed to take pictures of what I'm seeing.

Take today, for example. The excursion was fucking awesome. We toured the Baltika beer factory and got to taste all the different kinds of beer they make. But they wouldn't let us take any pictures because they're afraid that we'll either steal their special recipes or because we'll take pictures and then use them to find some way to either break in or blow up the factory. And we all know that Russia without beer would be a sad country indeed...

This was actually a really cool excursion. I'd never been to a beer factory although I'm from the land of fucking micro-brews, and that huge factory that used to be in the middle of the downtown Pearl that I can't remember the name of right now. It's where Whole Foods is now. And I know that a huge factory is a little different than micro-brewing, thanks, but all the same, I feel like I should have been before now. Anyway, we got to see all the tanks where they age the beer, and I've never seen so many giant tanks of beer in my life. The smell was amazing. All I could think about was how happy I would be if one of those tanks just spontaneously sprung a leak.

Then we went through (and when I say went through, we walked through the factory in these glass skyways) the bottling part where they make the bottles, complete with a machine that they called an "american worker" that was like a roller coaster for the bottles to cool them off. Then they fill the bottles, cap them, wash them, slap the labels on, and package them. The whole process was so fast. It was incredible. The plastic bottles went faster than the glass ones, and with less breakage and spillage.

We also got to go through some of the warehouses where they keep the beer before it's shipped out. This was a warehouse bigger than an airplane hanger where they keep cartons and cases and kegs and whatever the fuck else beer comes in. Anyway, this looks like enough beer to keep people busy for a good month, but it turned out to be only big enough to keep Russia drunk for three days. And Russia isn't even the leader for per capita beer drinking.

Speaking of disturbing things related to alcohol drinking, there's a liver failure epidemic going around Russia right now. All the prices for the cheapest alcohol just went up, and the people who could barely afford the rotgut that is legal to sell are now drinking god knows what, and as a result, are undergoing liver failure. Needless to say, the state is very concerned about this further decrease in population. The pictures of bright yellow people on the news are really gross.

Anyway, after we made it through the warehouses and past the huge wall of gifts that people have given the factory, the guide showed us the special Balitika horses. Apparently, the horses are part of their ad campaign, which involves people in period costume driving around downtown Petersburg with horses and a big wagon full of (empty) Baltika kegs. There were only two horses there (the rest were somewhere else) and they looked pretty much like all horses look.

After that excitement, we got to go to the tasting room where we had beer and snacks. Because drinking's no good if you can't remember the three rules of Russian drinking: 1) Never admit that you're drunk (because that means you're a pussy); 2) Never drink alone (because that means that you're an alcoholic); 3) Never drink without food (because this also means that you're an alcoholic). Anyway, we got to try all kinds of different Baltika beers, which are numbered according to some arcane system that nobody can really figure out. Anyway, I liked No. 8, the unfiltered wheat beer. The 5 tastes a lot like Miller with a little more kick, and is apparently the number one seller. As usual, there was a discussion of the purpose of non-alcoholic beer, which most people agreed was created for recovering alcoholics until Meg came over and laid down the law: "Baltika 0 isn't for ex-alcoholics! It's for athletes, pregnant women, and designated drivers!" Somehow this was more funny when I was sloshed.

We were all a little punchy by the time the guide officially declared the tour over. And then he disappeared and came back with gift bags with Baltika mugs in them. Yay free things!

After the excursion, I was supposed to meet my new tutor, Zhenya, but we ran late at the factory and we decided that it would just be better to meet Thursday. This was really good because I've had bad insomnia all week and haven't been getting more than a couple hours of sleep. It's really hot in my room now that the heat's on, and even though I sleep with the window open, it's still not quite enough. Anyway, for whatever reason, I haven't been sleeping, and I've been feeling like shit. I'm always surprised how close being drunk is to going on very little sleep. There's that same feeling of being at a remove from everything going on around. And being slightly buzzed in the middle of the day and real tired was enough to kill whatever little motivation I had to go do anything.

So I went home and did homework or read a book or something. I don't remember.

The heat is not yet on at school, and it's now significantly colder inside the building than outside. Especially since the temperature has changed from 0ºC on Sunday to +13ºC today. Anyway, it's not quite so cold that you can see your breath inside, but so cold that your toes get numb if you sit too long without fidgeting.

I can't remember what else I was supposed to talk about today.

Oh yeah. When I came back from Kazan, a fridge had joined the bathtub and radiator in the "defunct junk" pile outside the elevator on the first floor. Today when I came back from school, the fridge had disappeared, but the tub and radiator were still there.

I also figured out what the strange thing in the kitchen is. It's a chainaya grip. This requires a little explanation, because this strange thing has been sitting in the kitchen for a while, but I totally didn't understand the explanation the first time around. So basically, there's this big jar with some bacteria swimming around in a tea and sugar mixture with some cheesecloth over the top. The bacteria grows into a jellyfish-like layer/creature, I'm still not quite clear which, and lives on the top of the tea mixture. You feed it sweet tea and it eats the sugar and makes the tea sour. Then, when the jellyfish gets to a certain thickness, you drink the tea. This is supposed to make you not get sick. As Rob said, it's basically jellyfish poop. And yes, I plan on drinking this vile concoction when it's ready. It sounds super gross, and it's just about gross enough that I couldn't possibly pass up a chance to find out exactly how gross it is.



Ew. Jellyfish.

School seems to be going better now that I'm in the faster class. I still understand what's going on, and I feel like I'm actually learning things. Not that I wasn't before, but the pace feels much more comfortable, and I'm not bored. I'm not crazy about being in class with Kristin, but it's not like I have to listen to her talk all that much in class. It's the outside of class that you have to watch out for. The only thing that I don't like so much (other than Kristin—soon there will be pictures so that you can all see and appreciate my annoyance more fully) is the new professors. I really liked all the profs that I had before, and it's definitely a trade down for razgovornia praktica. She seems totally nice outside of class, but she's a little bitchy and just not very good at doing the synonym thing, and she looks at you funny sometimes if you have to ask. She's also severely anorexic. Like whoa. Actually, she looks like Julia Roberts, only minus about 50 lbs. It's gross. She has M.C. Hammer pants, and that's because they don't make any pants skinny enough to fit her. And frankly, I'd rather not see that her legs are as big around as my hand.

We had a test today that I probably totally bombed. This is only the second test that I've had here, and the other one was grammar and was open book, open note. This was in class, and we'd only had about two classes on the material. It's really good to know how to go on the metro and other kinds of transport, but it was a lot of vocab to learn all at once. But apparently it doesn't matter how you do on the tests because it's only the final that matters. Way to freak you out...

Monday Meeting was the usual, but we're going to have a couple Halloween parties. Yay Halloween. On the back of the handout Meg gave us were a bunch of costume ideas. But where do you buy things like burlap or paint? Not that I'm creative, but it'd be cool to have a costume. Whatever. I probably won't end up going anyway. It's too much work to figure all that shit out just to stand around with a bunch of assholes you don't want to hang out with anyway.

I hung out until it was time to go to Discussion Club at the ygol. I'm not sure why, because I was cranky and really didn't want to go. Maybe because I feel bad for Meg or something, and it is sort of a reflection on her, albeit indirectly, if not very many of her students show up for this thing. Anyway, the theme was pop culture, and it was way less painful than the last time I went. I didn't have to try to describe a beaver or anything.

Afterward, on the way to the metro with Meg, a new country was born to take its rightful place among the many "stans" of the world. While you may not have heard of Kazakstan, or Tatarstan, everybody's heard of Crazybitchistan. And everybody knows somebody from there. This new country is Whackistan, and is a close, close neighbor of Crazybitchistan. Every country has its own parables, although the only parables from Crazybitchistan that I remember have to do with either Lurline or Noah Depper. Go figure. Anyway, Meg said that I should write the first parable for Whackistan, "The Whack Bitch from Whackistan." However, I'm all out of fresh ideas about whack bitches and their whack adventures—my life is whack enough. So, a smuggle-able into the country bottle of absinthe goes to the best parable. Remember to sign your work, kids.

I found a note that I'd written myself on my bookmark for Gravity's Rainbow. It says, "Fetishization of technology, particularly vis à vis technology as the instrument of death."

I have mixed feelings about this note. Because one one hand it's just so nerdy and academic, and yes, maybe even a little bit pretentious, that it makes me a little ashamed. But then the other part of my brain is like, "But dude! That's so cool! Because it's not only fetishization of technology in the abstract, but it's also sex with technology and becoming one with technology as it kills you! Death by technology is the ultimate orgasm! That's awesome! You could write a dissertation about this!" And then the other half of my brain is so ashamed that it has to shrivel up a little more and let me descend further into nerd-dom.

But to return to Meg on my couch. She woke up a little before I did, and had apparently been contemplating how to play the fact that she, the director of my program, was waking up on my couch. Because my host parents were definitely up and about, and it was maybe a potentially awkward situation. But it turned out okay. They were a little surprised, but pulled out an extra plate and dished out some kasha and made some coffee. Then Meg split for home, and I headed out with her to the internet café for blog updating, emailing, and grad school research. I did a little blog stuff and wrote a long-ish email to my mom, and then that was about it. It takes a really long time to post everything and make it look nice with the pictures and stuff. Even though I write all of this stuff ahead of time and it's mostly just cut and paste...

When I finally made it back from the internet café, I saw some small boots in the hall. The granddaughter had come to visit and was taking a nap. So it was quiet time for about an hour; long enough for me to eat and get comfortable with my book. Ksusha is two, very cute, and almost incomprehensible. Kids are really hard to understand in general, and she's just learning how to talk. Although she knows more animal words than I do. I need to get on that. Also with the food and general household items. I'm really really bad at that stuff. Anyway, she called me tyotya (aunt), but it took me about half and hour to figure out that when she said that, she was referring to me. We had fun. I chased her around with her toy snake, and then she showed me how she could count five balloons: "four, five, six, seven, eight, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fifteen, sixteen..." She's pretty awesome. She also invited me to come have tea with them sometime. Yeah.

Then I did the usual homework thing for class and went to bed.

So today. Really. Was. Not. Exciting. And the only reason that I have anything to report about today is that I went out for drinks with Meg. This was after sleeping in, and then studying for the GRE most of the afternoon. I called Ivan to see if he wanted to hang out, but he was buying boots and said he'd call me back. Then there was a furious SMS-ing session with Meg, who needed advice about whether or not she should go to drinks with Evgenii after her crush who was going to go with them cancelled. This is also slightly problematic, because it is suspected that Evgenii may have a small crush on Meg. Oh, the drama of the love triangle!

Anyway, it was decided that since it didn't seem like Ivan was going to be calling me anytime soon, we should just plan on having beers at 8, so that Meg would have a good excuse for having a drink with Evgenii and then splitting. Meg was appallingly late and I waited at the metro station for forty-five minutes. But it was okay, because I had a book, and there were lots of people to look at, so I wasn't bored.

She took me to a couple places on the island, which was good, because I hadn't done any exploring on my own and had no idea where the fuck the bars were. We started out in a café until they closed, and then moved to a much pricier German place two doors down. It was really nice. I forget how nice it is to talk to somebody who knows who your friends are, and who already knows you well. It was also really nice to talk to somebody about the weird feelings of growing up, and maybe kinda feeling like you've maybe met somebody that you might want to spend a significant bit of time with. And how to tell that person that they mean a lot to you without sounding like a douchebag.

I'm going to get a little personal here, so if you're not into crap about my not-love life, skip down to the next paragraph. I'm not sure that talking about this is really okay, mostly because most of you can probably guess who I'm talking about, but I know he doesn't read this, so whatever. Anyway. There's somebody back home that I really miss a lot. And this isn't really like a "Oh, yeah, I guess I miss him" if I happen to be thinking about it, but more like an all-the-time "Oh my God, how am I going to make it through the next seven months with only phone calls?" type of thing that hasn't gotten much better since I arrived. Of course this is all made way worse by the fact that I'm sure he doesn't miss me anywhere near as much as I miss him. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don't want to do another year far away from this guy. That I miss him too much. And it doesn't matter that we're not dating or together in any sense of the word (that that we have been ever), but I just really want to be his friend and be near him. Which sounds like the dumbest and sappiest thing in the world and makes me want to barf, but that's how it is. Although, the good thing about me being away is that we actually talk to each other when I call. Which is not something that we've ever really done that much of before, except when we're drunk. And it's been really pretty good. But I'm starting to look at grad schools and wonder how on earth I'm going to do another couple years away, especially if he's staying in Portland. Because just telling him how I feel is weird and freaky, right? But also planning my life around him is weird and freaky, right? I totally have no idea what to do. Mostly I'm afraid of having this conversation because this is also someone who's hurt me on a couple of separate occasions with this kind of stuff, and I'm not sure that I'd want to hear his response. Because part of me knows that he's got too much inertia built up to change anything about his life, and I think that hearing that might also just break my heart. I don't know. I just want so badly to be his friend and be where he is and I'm just not sure how to do it. I wish life was easier and that I could just man-up and tell him and not worry about what he's going to say. Which would probably be nothing anyway.

So yeah, anyway... Growing up sucks. Enough of that. By the time we emerged from the German bar after accosting a group of English speakers at another table and demanding to know what program they belonged to, we headed out for the metro. Or rather, I headed, and Meg staggered. We had three beers together, but she had two before she met me. And alas, by the time we made it to the metro, it was shut tight and dark for the night. However, we were on the island, so we headed in the direction of my house, where it was pretty clear that Meg was going to have to spend the night, as she was in no condition to be negotiating the dangers of a taxi on her own. It was a night full of minor wrong turns, me having to pee down a sidestreet (fervently hoping that nobody was out walking around or looking out their window), and Meg's umbrella getting run over by a car after she swung it around and it flew off the wrist loop. We eventually found my street and we came in as quietly as two drunk Americans can, had some tea and I put Meg on the couch in my room.

I had bad dreams all night. Something about "mad fish disease." Gross.

Today sucked a lot because I had to go to school. After seeing all these kids for a week, the last thing that I wanted to do was spend more time with them. However, today didn't suck as bad as it could have for a couple reasons. One, I'm doing a trial group switch to see if I like the faster paced semester group better. Two, we didn't have to go to politologia. And three, there were stupid master-classes for some seminar about how foreign students adapt to life in Russia that I didn't have to pay attention to and I could just sit back and think about how much I didn't want to be there.

So I peaced out of school as fast as I could so that I wouldn't have to talk to anybody. I hadn't checked my email since a day or two before I left on the trip, so I was anxious to do that. My mom had written before I left that my car had been broken into, and I was very afraid that my pool cue had been stolen because I forgot to get everything out of my car before I left. However, Mom wrote to say that my pool cue was safe, as were some pillows and bed sheets. Also, she offered to photocopy my thesis notes and send me the photocopies so that the originals wouldn't get lost. Which I'm very very grateful for because that's going to be a monumental task, and I'm not sure that she realized what she was volunteering for. It was also a good day because I finally heard from Alex. And yes, you get publicly shamed for being a bad correspondent, but only because you're the only one I worry about. All the rest of you either don't do as much dumb shit, or are better about not telling me that you do dumb shit, so I don't worry.

It was Jessica's birthday, and it's Laura's birthday on Sunday, so a big group of them got together at a restaurant downtown somewhere. Laura called me around 9:30 to ask if I was coming, which was nice, but I was too cranky to contemplate going, let alone appreciate the fact that someone had missed me and called to find out where I was. I had a very happy evening sitting at home and writing about the trip and being cranky. Ivan of the bad breath also called and invited me to hang out this weekend. I'm supposed to call him sometime. Cool.

Life is so much less exciting now that I'm home, which means that I have significantly less to write about. This is good, because maybe it means that I can soon resume life as usual and not be worried that I'm so far behind on my stupid blog. It's also ridiculous that I worry that people might care if I didn't write about every single one of my days. I'm getting more neurotic all the time. It's awesome. Really.

The only thing that I could think about when I woke up in the morning was "Holy fuck, I'm still on the train, and it's still so long until Petersburg..." So I rolled over, hit the play button on Shooter Jennings again, and dozed until I couldn't doze anymore because the train lady was going up and down the aisle demanding the bed sheets. So I got up, had some breakfast, and talked to Laura for a while. Then I had to have some quiet time because everybody was driving me crazy, and I had quiet time most of the way into Petersburg.

We got into the station around 12:30, and I've never been so glad to see anyplace in my life. I had to negotiate buying a new metro pass since mine had conveniently expired while I was gone, and that was fun waiting in line with all my bags. Not that they were big, but they were kinda heavy and bulky. Anyway, the metro was done, and I arrived back at my host family's apartment, or I guess I should just say home. I gave the chak-chak, ate some lunch, and then took a long nap. Then I took a shower, had some dinner, did a little reading, and went to bed.

We spoke a lot of English on the trip, and it was actually pretty difficult to speak Russian when we weren't in service situations. And I was both surprised and pleased that I missed speaking Russian, as evidenced by the fact that it was kind of a relief to speak with my host family. Although this may also be because I had a lot of super nerdy and academic conversations with Laura, and there's just so much less pressure in Russian to be smart, because I'm just not capable of expressing myself intelligently in that language. Oh well. Maybe someday.

We had to get up early today to catch the 9am train back to Petersburg. We stumbled downstairs to find that a significant portion of the group was also planning who they were not going to sit with on the train back. Breakfast, hotel checkout, and schlepping our bags to the station was pretty uneventful, except that Natasha somehow managed to guilt-trip the hotel into giving Laura her money back. But now begins the chronicle of the epic train ride. Which I realize isn't really that epic, but it was more than a day, and it made me realize that the train is totally like the circus, only on wheels.

Anyway, Laura got on the train first and managed to snag us the last two bunks in our section, which actually ended up being in a coupe with Russians, rather than other Americans. While slightly frightening, it was okay. The woman on the bottom bunk didn't talk to us at all, and the man who had the top bunk across from us also didn't really talk to us for most of the ride. There were two asiatic looking dudes who had the aisle bunks who stared at us a lot but didn't talk to us.

I did a lot of people watching, because it was more interesting than doing anything else. As it turned out, in the carriage was our big group of Americans, and also a fairly large group of Russian teenagers, probably between the ages of fourteen and seventeen. I'm not sure how the Americans behaved because they were sitting behind me and I didn't go hang out with them, but from where I was sitting, I could see into the Russian kids' coupe. They were all pretty drunk at some point or another during the ride and spent a lot of it jumping around on the bunks and hitting each other. At some point, the man with the lower aisle bunk got on the train and kicked the kids out of his bunk.

When this particular man got on the train, he was pretty obviously sloshed to the gills. I'm pretty bad about telling when folks are drunk, but this dude was ripped. He actually reminded me a lot of Dennis. Not that I'm saying that Dennis is frequently drunk, although I'm sure that he is, but more the way that he looked and interacted with other people, I guess. Anyway, when this dude got on the train, the train lady asked him for his ticket, and he had a hard time finding it. Then when she started giving him a hard time, he kept digging through his passport, and then handed her the ticket with a big, slow, goofy grin. Then he swatted the kids off his bunk and took a nap. When dude woke up, he started talking with the Russian kids, pestering them for a drink, and mildly hitting on the girls. Girls are about fifteen, dude's at least thirty. Dude also came on board the train with a crew, as I found out later when they all went down to the restaurant car and returned with beers.

The highlights that followed their return are as follows. They settled in with the Russian kids, but were apparently making the girls uncomfortable or talking inappropriately, or something, because the train lady in charge of law and order came back and yelled at them and told them to go to their own bunks. Which they did for a little while, but then they broke out the cribbage board. The crew was sitting up by the other American students, so dude went up and joined them and then they were all playing quietly for awhile. But then there started to be some kind of ruckus, although whether it was just among the Russians and somebody cheating or somebody not getting a turn or whether it also involved the Americans at that point was unclear. But the train lady came back and calmed things down for awhile. But then the drunk dudes started talking with the American students and trying to hit them up for money, and apparently making lewd remarks or just generally touching the girls. So the train lady came back again and sent them all to their bunks, and Margaret told everybody not to speak Russian with the drunk guys. At some point, one of them yelled, "khui na blad'," which is really super super bad (and loosely translated means something like "fuck the whores" except way worse). In the morning, the wake'n'bake crew made their pilgrimage to the restaurant car and returned a little the worse for wear to resume their harassment of the American students.

But meanwhile, life in my compartment was pretty quiet and sleepy. I did some studying for the GRE and I napped a little, and talked to Laura some. Ate, and then repeated the above actions. Of course, all this was interspersed with watching all the drama. Laura complained that the younger asiatic dude kept staring at her, and she didn't want to go to sleep, because then he would be looking at her while she was sleeping. I felt compelled to point out that if she was sleeping, she wouldn't know that he was watching her, so it didn't really matter. She told me the next morning that her leg spazmed in the night and the asiatic dude across the aisle kept tapping her foot until she woke up. Then he pointed at the ceiling, at she thought that he wanted her to turn the light on, and she couldn't figure out why he didn't just ask the train lady. Although, as she was putting her mattress away the next morning, she realized that the dude probably thought she was cold and was trying to tell here that there were blankets on the shelf above the top bunk. Another lost in translation.

I also spent a little while talking with the dude in our compartment before I went to sleep. He seemed like a relatively normal thirty-something guy by the name of Volodya, who lives and works and Petersburg, but has family in Kazan. He wanted to know what I thought of Russia, and then wanted to know if I'd been to Hollywood and Disneyland and what that was like, and whether we had a lot of tornadoes in the US. Uh, what? Maybe in the south or midwest sometimes, I guess... He knew how to say "My name is Volodya," "table," "hello," and "fuck you" in English. He said that the phrase "fuck you" was a very good one to know and that it helped in a lot of situations. I told him that actually, probably not. He told me that I shouldn't go to Kiev because it's boring there, other than St. Sophia's. I'm totally still going anyway. And it will be a train odyssey. Because fuck if I'm bussing it from northern Russia to the fucking Ukraine. I did pretty well with the whole conversation thing, but I did make a faux pas when I asked him if he spoke any Tatar because the our guide said that kids who grew up in Tatarstan had some classes in Tatar. He got a little offended and said, "No. I'm a Russian," but then he realized that I'm just a dumb American and didn't mean to imply that he was an ethnic minority, and thus NOT RUSSIAN, and explained that of course, he knew a few words, but no, he didn't speak it.

But yeah, train adventures...

So we woke up the next morning after Laura hit the snooze several times and we decided that since breakfast was very soon, we should probably get up. I was mostly dressed and sitting on the bed putting my socks on when I looked over at the door, which was slightly ajar, or rather, it was closed, but not latched. So I asked Laura if she had opened the door either last night or this morning, which she hadn't. At which point she came out of the bathroom, "Oh my God, where's my purse?" It had been moved from next to her bed to over by the door. The thief took all the money that she had in her wallet, but didn't touch the rest of the stuff in her bag, like her passport, iPod, or digital camera. She didn't lose any cards or anything because a Petersburg thief got those about three weeks ago. All my stuff was there and my wallet was intact. Then we both realized that somebody had been in our room at night, while we were sleeping, and had taken Laura's money.

This is such a profoundly creepy thought that I can't even explain.

Actually, I can a little bit. It's just so creepy to think that somebody that I don't know was watching me sleep. And that they could have done anything to me, and I probably would have been so sleep-addled and scared that, you know, whatever. Somehow, I'm more creeped out by the idea that the dude was watching me sleep than the idea that I could have been raped or killed, because really, that could happen on the street here. But whatever. I'm okay. Laura's okay. Everybody's okay. Laura was only out about $70, which also wasn't that bad, all things considered. Anyway, at breakfast we found out that Margaret and Natasha had also had a nocturnal visitor to their room, and they had locked their door. Luckily Natasha woke up and saw the guy, asked him what he was doing there and then chased him out.

After breakfast and complaints to the hotel about the thief in the night, we piled onto the bus and headed out for the Raifa monastery, about 45 minutes or so from Kazan. The Raifa monastery is famous for housing the famous icon, the Georgian Mother of God. Don't worry if you haven't heard of it, because most people haven't. There are also Mother of God icons for most cities in Russia. This one is just special because it comes from Georgia. Like the country, not the state. Anyway, the monastery was pretty cool, but you all know that I like this kinda stuff. The two churches that we got to go in were disappointing, but the icon was nice. That sounds so weak. It was "nice." It was cool to look at, but it looks like most other icons of Mary and the baby Jesus with a really ornate cover over it. And I feel really weird looking really hard at it and trying to see what it looks like rather than saying a prayer and kissing it.




The coolest part of the trip by far was the monks that the tour guide had somehow coerced or conned or, I'm sure, paid to sing for us. These four monks sang some hymns and a few traditional Russian songs for us in the big church. The acoustics of the church were incredible and I was amazed at how much sound just the four of them made—they sounded like the whole choir. It was so beautiful. I looked at the icons and listened to the monks singing and not for the first time, but maybe the most profoundly, I realized why the emissaries sent out by that long-ago tsar said that the Greek Orthodox was the most beautiful religion. It is. Really.

Probably not many of you except maybe Joe know this about me, but I've been fascinated by God and religion for quite a while. Maybe it has something to do with not growing up religious and just being perpetually unhappy and unsatisfied with my life. And I've never found anything that makes it better. Probably because I think too much. But anyway, standing there in that church listening to those monks and looking at those icons was both overwhelmingly beautiful and overwhelmingly peaceful and overwhelmingly agitating at the same time. So when they were done singing, I had to go outside and have some quiet meditation time. And Joe, you'll appreciate the irony of this I'm sure... The first bench across from the church was in front of a small stone pillar with a cross on top of it. And I sat down in the first seat, directly in front of this cross. And I was so preoccupied with feeling strange and overwhelmed that I didn't even notice until after I'd sat and thought for a long time.

I'm not sure that I decided anything, but I cried a little and that seemed to help. In fact, crying seems to help most things in life. Life is still the same and as confusing and horrible and awful as ever and I don't think that's going to get better. But I really like churches because they're pretty and they smell good. Which is kinda like my criteria for choosing dudes, come to think of it... Anyway. I figured that since I like churches, God will probably not strike me dead if I go and stand in a church for awhile once a week. Especially if it makes me feel better. But who knows. Joe, I'm sorry that you weren't there and I really missed you a lot while I was sitting on that bench in the cold. Because maybe you would have known what to say.

Moving away from the heavy personal stuff, the ride back from the monastery was uneventful. The city of Kazan reminds me a little bit of Portland, but also not. They have very strange divisions between urban and not-urban, by which I mean that they seem to not exist. There would be dachas for about a mile, and then a field with some cows in it, and then some more big apartment buildings. Some of the neighborhoods that we drove through reminded me a lot of old-town Beaverton, and not necessarily in a good way. However, Kazan's got the big communal Soviet style apartment buildings that the Portland metro area still thankfully lacks.

Something else that I noticed while on the way back to the hotel is that almost no drivers get out of the way of emergency vehicles with sirens and flashing lights. I've noticed this in Petersburg too. I'm not sure why, because sometimes people yield, but a lot of times they don't, and it doesn't seem to be a law that they have to. I asked Lena about it one time and she just shrugged and said that people were always happy to slow the police down. That I sort-of understand, but the fire truck? The other thing that puzzles me about the emergency vehicles is that they very rarely seem to be in a hurry. Which maybe makes them less urgent to get out of the way for, I guess. Oh, Russia. Here's where I sigh and shrug my shoulders.

We had lunch when we got back, and today, instead of the usual normal Russian food, we had some Tatar stuff on the table. So I had the Tatar version of a fruit roll-up, made with prunes, apricots, and nuts, and a chak-chak. I'm not even really sure how to explain what a chak-chak is, so I guess I'll start simple. It's a desert, and it's made with honey, and some macaroni looking things, but they're not macaroni because they're more bread-like. Anyway, these macaroni things are all stuck together with the honey and it's really dense and sticky. Actually, it's kinda like a rice krispie treat with honey instead of marshmallow. And the macaroni pieces are bigger. But yeah, same idea. It tastes kinda weird, and I'm not sure whether it was good, or whether it was another "interesting experience."

After lunch, I went on an unsuccessful expedition to find a particular souvenir for those of you with houses and stuff. In the mosque, they had a tapestry with a big blue glass circle with an eye in the middle of it. My mom has one of these in her kitchen, only minus the tapestry. It's supposed to bring good luck and to ward off the evil eye or spirits or something. Anyway, the mosque didn't sell just the blue glass circles with the eyes, and neither did the rinok outside. So I started out with Margaret and Natasha and Brandon, but Natasha got called back for a meeting with the hotel director to talk about how whack it was that there were strange men breaking into (or just walking into) rooms at night and stealing (or attempting to steal) things. So we walked up to the Kremlin while we were waiting and ran into a large group of students that I really really really didn't want to see.

Because by this point in the trip, I'd had it with pretty much everybody. Actually, that's a lie, but I'd had it with more than half of the group, and I just kept running into the kids that I really just didn't have any interest in seeing. Because that's the way my life works. Finally Natasha was done with her meeting and we were able to make a get-away from most of the group, but we picked up two that are not on my list of favorites: Claire, and the awkward Eric. Remember Eric? He's the weird one who likes to sit by me on the public transit. Yeah. I put on my mean face and nobody except Natasha and Margaret talked to me (well, Brandon did, but I talked to him first) and I even had worked out how to say, "You know, honestly, I'm just not really interested in hanging out with or talking to you" in case Claire wanted to try to be friends. And really, it's probably better that she just kept to herself. Because I'm just charming enough that I probably would have said that to her. Why am I such a bitch? What's happening to me? Oh, right. Living in Russia.

We walked around for awhile and Natasha and Meg bought insane numbers of chak-chaks to take back to people in Petersburg. I bought a small-ish one for my host family because they really like sweet stuff. As do most people here. The desert industry is huge. Then we walked around a little more, and I looked at every souvenir place for those blue glass circles with the eyes in them, but the only kiosk that had them only had really really ugly ones that were too ugly to buy, as cool as they were. They were so ugly. Really. I would have been ashamed to bring them back for you guys. Somewhere along the line we lost Claire and acquired the super-obnoxious Laura F.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped for hot chocolate and blini at a café with froofy desert drinks. Everyone else had pudding hot chocolate, but I wasn't feeling so down with the pudding. So I got something with a lot of coffee, chocolate, and enough whipped cream that I should have had a heart attack right there at the table. It was yummy. Then to the universam that happened to be housed in a gigantic pyramid. I don't know, so don't ask. Here's the pyramid at night, and that's the cool Laura in front of it. She probably also doesn't know that she's on the internet, but that's okay.


I bought extra food for the infamous 27-hour train ride because I figured that Laura would have forgotten, or wouldn't have gone out. And as it turns out, I was totally right. She had stayed behind when the group went out, and then she was the only one, and she didn't really feel like wandering around a strange city by herself. I don't blame her—I don't really even like wandering around Petersburg by myself, and at least that's somewhat familiar (or, rather, I have a map). Then I took a shower, and I totally took advantage of the hour that I paid $2 for and shaved my legs. Because there's no point in paying for an hour if you're not going to use most of it, and they don't let you use half at a time. Also: there were really only two showers for the whole hotel. I pretty successfully managed not to think about how gross this is. The billiard room was right next to the showers, and I was very tempted to go down and ask whatever Russian dudes were playing to teach me how to play Russian style. But when I looked in, they were all of fourteen or fifteen, so I changed my mind.

When I got back, Laura made me do crime scene reenactments with her. This meant that we turned off the light to assess how dark it must have been when the thief came in, and whether Laura could have seen him from where she was laying. And then she had the great realization, "Oh my God! His face was right by my head! That's so creepy!" Uh. Yeah. Can we turn the lights back on now?

So we thought happy thoughts, locked the door, and went to bed.

Although, I do have to say that the only perk of waking up at 4:15 was seeing Claire's train attire. And I so wish that I'd had my camera out. Anyway, she was waiting in line for the bathroom wearing... Anyone? Socks. Underpants. A tank top with no bra. And a hat. No pants. No pants. NO PANTS. I understand that it was really really really hot on the train, but no pants? Socks and no pants? I fail to understand. Completely and utterly. Katie, you should make a "no pants" dance.

Anyway, we got into Kazan around 6am. Everything was fucking dark and really cold. Especially after being on that train for so long. Anyway, our hotel was within walking distance of the train station (and, in fact, close enough that the hotel shook when the trains went by), so we walked for twenty minutes in the cold with all our crap. However, we did get to nap for a couple of hours once we got to the hotel. And this hotel was definitely a step down from the last one, judging both by the size of the rooms and by the fact that in Kazan, you have to pay for your showers. I roomed with Laura W. again, the misadventures of which will be related shortly.

So we napped for a couple hours before having to make it downstairs for breakfast and excursion time. I have somewhat mixed feelings about the breakfast offered by the hotel in Kazan. While they were definitely more organized and had a much bigger buffet, I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that salad, macaroni, and meatballs are considered breakfast food. And they didn't have any yogurt. I like yogurt a lot.

After breakfast, we had a big bus excursion around the city of Kazan and a walking tour of the Kremlin. The Kazan Kremlin is actually pretty neat. It's inclosed in a giant white wall and they have a mosque inside. Because Kazan is not just Russian, but is Tatarstan and is also Moslem. Which means that they also have some really crazy awesome looking architecture, and the Tatars mostly speak Tatar (duh) rather than Russian. Although everybody knows Russian.

We walked up to the main gate of the Kremlin with the huge clock tower that the guide told us something interesting about, but I was too far away to hear her and wasn't paying attention anyway. Then we walked around the outside of the Kremlin for a little while and looked out at the city and got oriented as to where our hotel was in relation to the Kremlin. The answer was: not very far away. Then we wandered inside the Kremlin walls and took a look at this cool new mosque that had just been built. I can't decide whether it looks more like the Disneyland castle or some kind of alien spaceship. Definitely more like an alien spaceship at night. Any votes?


The mosque was cool because we actually got to go inside. I'd never been inside a mosque before. We had to wear special plastic slippers over our shoes, just like we do most other places that handle a lot of tourists. It was pretty cool, although we had to go through a metal detector as we came in. I'm not so sure how I feel about that, although I'm pretty sure that the answers are along the lines of "not that great" and "kinda freaked out." But yeah, the mosque was neat. No pictures of the inside because that's taboo.

Then we continued our wanderings up to the leaning tower of Kazan. Supposedly, according to what I understood from the guide, in the time of Ivan the Terrible, there was a really pretty girl. And Ivan the Terrible really wanted to marry her. But she didn't really want to marry him, because, you know, he's Ivan the Terrible. So he locked her up in this tower. And then she jumped out and killed herself after maybe he threatened to do something to her family? That part I wasn't so clear on, but I did get that she jumped. That doesn't really explain why it leans, and the guide said that the tower was actually built after the time of Ivan the Terrible, but there you go.


Then we went into the Orthodox church in the Kremlin. It was super big, and I think it was pretty, but they shuffled us in and out so fast, it was hard to get a good look. Because if you hadn't gathered already, I really dig the churches and icons and stuff.


On our way out of the Kremlin, we went through the "secret" bastion, or whatever the fuck the big things in the middle of the wall are called. It's called "secret" because it was how the people of Kazan got the jump on invaders. The way this works is that it's the only bastion with two arches. The main road went through this bastion, and the invaders would have to pass through this bastion to get into the Kremlin. However, both of the arches of the bastion had portcullises, and when the invaders, or part of them, were inside, the people of Kazan would drop the portcullises, trapping the people inside. Then they'd shoot at them or do other nasty things through little arrow holes in the walls. Medieval warfare is fucking awesome.


Then we piled onto the bus to go see the icon "The Lady of Kazan." There was some story about a fire and a dream recurring three times that somehow had something to do with the icon that I'm totally unclear on. Because the icon "had revealed itself three times in the dream" and I totally just don't know. I though that the icon had been destroyed in the fire, but maybe not. Who knows. Anyway, we went to see this icon that's super famous and apparently really beautiful, but it's hard to tell because they have a gold and silver cover over it to protect it. Although I did feel smart when one of the guys asked me, "Why is Mary black? Did they paint her that way?" Uh, no. Mary is black because the icon is painted on wood, and then varnished, and gets darker as it ages, like most other paintings. The church also had some other icons, but nothing that was super exciting or interesting. Although Jonathan did get reprimanded for standing with his back to the iconostasis. And then he started bitching about it, which actually made me kinda angry. In the Orthodox religion, icons are a direct manifestation of God, and standing with your back to the iconostasis where the icons are mounted is like turning your back on God, quite literally. It's a respect thing. Even if you don't believe, you should have the courtesy to respect other people's beliefs and not get pissed off when they ask you to do so.

Enough ranting about religion. After the icon, we drove around the city a little bit in the big bus. Kazan is at a weird stage right now and it's undergoing a lot of urban renewal. Many of the buildings downtown had been abandoned and left to rot, but are now being torn down and/or renovated. Like in Nizhny-Novgorod, Kazan is building a lot of new apartment buildings. But the weird thing was that I didn't get the sense that Kazan was that big of a city. Granted that it's about the same size as Nizhny, but it feels totally different. There just don't seem to be as many people, and it makes me wonder where they all are. Do they actually live there? Or are they building, hoping to attract new people to the city? It's a mystery.

After we stopped even pretending to pay attention to the guide and answer her questions, she told us that she'd just stop talking and let us look out the windows of the bus. Which she didn't. But that was okay, because we were on the way back to the hotel and lunch. Mushroom-noodle soup is really yummy.

After lunch we had free time. I ended up going up to my room for awhile because I wasn't quite ready to brave the town with the rest of the group. Laura W., the long suffering roommate, joined me. I tried to set down a record of the events thus far in my little black book so that I could remember the most amusing incidents for the blog later, but mostly we just ended up gossiping about the other kids on the trip. And we mostly determined that pretty much everybody sucks. Actually, this is a lie. There were a few people who were okay, and some that were neutral, but by in large, the group sucks. I could go into detail about what I dislike about each person, but this would really only be gratifying for me, since I'm the only one who knows them.

By the time that it was starting to get dark, Laura and I decided that we should probably brave the streets of Kazan to at least check out the main pedestrian walkway and find something to eat for dinner. We shuffled out into the cold and made it down to the main drag, which looked a lot like it did in Nizhny-Novgorod, only with more souvenir stands. And buildings in the process of being torn down or remodeled. Or maybe both. So we wandered around in the dark for awhile and then decided to look for a grocery store to buy things for dinner since neither of us were either feeling all that hungry or up to negotiating ordering things at a restaurant. So, we wandered over to where I thought that Natasha had told us the grocery store was and it turns out that I'm just bad with directions or misheard. But we did find a mall. And Russian malls are weird. They're a little like American malls in that they have a lot of stores, but these stores are all really small. And they're usually more like cubicles in an office, except a little bigger. So we wandered the mall until the security guard kicked us out, at which point we resumed our hunt for a grocery store.

I accosted a lady on the street, but she claimed not to know where one was. The outdoor rinok was long closed, but after going down a sketchy back alley that we didn't know was going to be sketchy until we were halfway through it, we found a grocery store. But first, how did we know the alley was sketchy? Because it didn't have many lights. But most importantly, because there was a silent casino with the doors open, and in front of it were three black Mercedes with lots of Tatar men piling in and out of them with doors opening and closing in no particular order. And if that doesn't scream sketchy situation, I'm not quite sure what does. Here are some night pictures of downtown Kazan.



After buying nutritious things like cookies, ice cream, and juice, we headed back to the hotel with the plan of hanging out in the room for a little bit and then trying to find Phoebe's room where there was theoretically another drinking party happening to celebrate the first night in Kazan. However, being the big nerds that we are, we started studying for the GRE and totally missed whatever drinking happened that night. Then it was midnight and time for bed.

So here's where we were idiots. Is everybody ready? Because the denouement doesn't come until tomorrow. So, I got into bed and put my headphones on to try to go to sleep and when Laura came out of the bathroom, I asked her if she had locked the door. At which point she said no, and that she didn't really think we needed to. I said that we should, but didn't insist, because the chances that something happening were pretty small. So we turned off the lights and went to sleep without locking the door.

Breakfast was much less exciting today than yesterday, and they had cherry yogurt instead of pineapple (that was weird and not all that tasty) and more blini, so everything was okay. There was also a lady with a big fur coat, bleached blond hair, and more plastic surgery than Dolly Parton to look at.

After breakfast, we packed up and headed out to a wooden architecture museum. This is basically a collection of old buildings, like a peasant house, a merchant's house, a barn, a well, a church, and some other stuff. It doesn't sound all that exciting, but it was actually pretty neat. The houses were covered in really intricate wood carvings, and thinking about how long that would have taken to do gave me a headache. This was all outside, and it was snowing just a little as we were walking around. Not wet snow like Portland, but the yucky dry snow that comes with a lot of wind.




Natasha, the trip coordinator, had arranged for the people who worked at the museum to sing us some traditional Russian songs, and then teach us traditional Russian games. This was all pretty crazy, and I'm glad that I wasn't hung over. The songs were pretty incomprehensible, and I also can't say that I particularly liked them. However, there was one song where one of the dudes blew on this horn that "called in the cows" and another dude in a wolf mask jumped out and ran around the room grabbing people. That was pretty funny. Mostly just to see people's reactions when this dude in the wolf mask grabbed their arms and shook them around a little.

Then we went outside and played village games. This involved a lot of standing in a big circle and holding hands. As all of you know, I'm not a good sport about stuff like that. However, I figured out quickly that I only had to be a good enough sport that I wouldn't be singled out, and then everything was sort of okay. I'm going to talk for a little while about these games, because they were kinda funny. The first one involved all of us holding hands in a big circle with one person in the middle. The museum people would sing a song and we'd walk around the circle until the end of the verse and then the person in the middle would do something that we all had to imitate. The person who imitated the worst had to go in the middle. So I was a good sport: I threw my hat in the air, I danced, I took my shoe off, I did a handstand, and I rolled around on the ground, and I didn't have to go in the middle.

The second game also involved holding hands in a big circle, but this time there was a girl and a guy in the middle. The chick started in the middle, and the guy outside the circle. The object of the game was for the guy to run after the girl, in and out of the circle, and catch her. This is supposed to be difficult because everybody in the circle is supposed to let the girl through, but not the guy. When the guy catches the girl, their turn is over and he has to kiss her some number of times (this ranged from 1 to 20). Really, in that game, everybody loses.

The third game that we played was a lot like London Bridge. Except with more holding hands. Two people started in the middle of the circle and made a bridge by raising their arms. They sang a song and at a certain point of the song, they'd bring their arms down and trap somebody inside, as the circle turned into a snake and had to pass underneath this bridge. The caught person would then join the bridge, and the snake of people would have to pass underneath more than once, increasing the chances of losing more people. I know this sounds really horrifically complicated, but it's not. It also involved a lot of running and ducking. While holding hands. I was just thankful that it didn't involve holding hands in people's crotches or kissing.

I'm not sure that I understood the point of the last game that we played, because I definitely did nothing the entire time. Mostly because I didn't want to kiss anybody. I'm really not about the gratuitous kissing of people I don't know or like. Anyway, the girls started with a big circle, holding hands. The guys started by squatting in a small circle in the middle. The dudes then sang a song, the gist of which was "Nobody loves me because nobody will kiss me, so I guess I'll just sit here and get drunk." The girls were supposed to leave the circle and kiss one of the guys, at which point they'd trade places. This went on for quite a while, while I contemplated how glad I was that participation in this seemed to be optional.

After game time, we walked around for a few minutes, but everybody was cold and wanted to get back on the bus and go back to somewhere warm. On the way back, we passed a railway coach that had been converted into an Orthodox Church. I was very sad that I couldn't get a picture of it. It had an onion dome coming out of the top. It was super awesome.

Evgenii decided that he wanted Tex-Mex for lunch, but between the Baskin Robbins escapade the day before and the fact that I'm not really much of a fan of Tex-Mex anyway (and really not so much in Russia), I decided to pass on the group excursion. So I ended up at a café with Meg and Natasha for most of the afternoon. Which was fine. The food was good, and I discovered that hot chocolate doesn't mean the same thing here as it does in the States. Surprise! When you order hot chocolate here, it comes with a spoon, and usually a water chaser. Because here, hot chocolate is something between pudding and a melted chocolate bar. It was okay—just not quite what I was expecting or wanted.

We went from there directly to dinner all together, where I had one of the nastiest salads I've ever had the misfortune to be served. I eat a lot of things here, but I still don't really like beets all that much. I don't really like peppers either, but I like beets way less. And I'm not really a big fan of mayonaise, unless it's on a turkey sandwich or in egg salad or deviled eggs. This salad was beets, apple, and mayo, garnished with a pea. I don't really like peas, either. I ate the apples, even though they were purple. And apple and mayo is one of the grossest things ever. Ew. The rest of dinner was okay, although I'm always a little weirded out by the mystery juices.

We headed back to the hotel and collected all our stuff and then headed out to the train station to catch the night train to Kazan. This was a short one—only 9 hours. We left around 9pm, meaning that we were slated to arrive in Kazan shortly after 6am. Blech. I also didn't do too badly in the bunkmate battle; in our little section we had Clark (who's pretty okay and very quiet), Laura W., and Kristin, who was really the only one who I wanted to strangle by the end. The train was so fucking hot I wanted to die. And we were in a regular car without the special bio toilet this time, so the bathroom was closed for the first hour and a half. I was dying by the time I got to take off some layers. I also didn't sleep a whole lot—it was just too hot. There were also a lot of people going by in the aisle, and Clark moved around and got up and down kind of a lot. Although it turned out okay, because by the time that the train lady woke us all up at 4:15am so that we could all have a chance to use the bathroom, I was so crabby that I didn't care if I was being rude by just putting my headphones on and ignoring everybody.

And really, at 5am, I couldn't care less how many kids Mel Gibson has.

Kristin was full of lots of little fun facts like that that she was more than happy to impart. I don't usually have a whole lot of patience of inane people, but I have even less on not much sleep. And I really couldn't make myself care about her apple juice, or the crick in her back, or that she didn't sleep well. I glared out the window for a long time.

I woke up with one of the worst hangovers I've had in awhile, even worse than the one after my going-away party, and approaching the one that I had after the last time that I actually got sick off of vodka. Not only was this a bad hangover, it was also an unfair one. I feel like I should only have to pay if I've actually had fun the night before, which was definitely not the case. I seriously contemplated not going to breakfast, but decided that if we were having excursion until 2, it was probably better to eat something.

I made it all the way to the doors of the cafeteria before I had to turn around and find the bathroom. It took a couple trips to get everything out (the color of stomach acid never fails to amaze me, but this time it was blue because of my adderall), but finally everything was more or less okay. I wasn't thrilled about the prospect of riding around on the bus, but that turned out okay too. While I'm on the subject of Russian buses, they suck pretty much a lot. There are no shocks, they're always too small, they smell, and the drivers are without exception, fucking maniacs. They (the buses, not the drivers) also look like bugs.

This is the Volga river from outside the hotel.


Our first stop on the excursion was the Stroganoff cathedral. It was commissioned by one of the Stroganoff family members way back when and is super beautiful both on the outside and on the inside. It's also got crazy colored onion domes. Check it out.


There are no pictures of the inside because that's really not okay. Except if it's a museum, and then I'll probably be too cheap to pay for it. Anyway, it was very tastefully done and it smelled really good. Incense that is not nag champa is a great thing, guys. Anyway, there was the usual iconostasis and some saint's relics, and lots of babyshkas kissing the icons. I dug it a lot.

After that, we piled back into the bus and drove around the Kremlin, having sights pointed out to us on the way. Then we got out and walked along the top of the ridge that the Kremlin's built on. It was super cold and windy up there. And when I say that it was cold, it was probably the coldest that I have ever been in my life. And I was wearing two pairs of long underwear, three shirts, two sweaters, a hat, a scarf, and my dumb gloves that don't have any fingers.

If any of you want to send me March Forth cd's, I'll love you forever.

Somehow March Forth and fingerless gloves got crossed... Interesting. Anyway, we walked over a concrete bridge that had cracks in it (yay safety!) to go have a look at the church where Gorky was baptized. This was also a very tasteful church. Sometimes the churches are really ugly. I'm not sure why this is—maybe it's just that the murals or frescos or whatever the fuck they're called are just ugly. Or maybe it's just that I want them all to be done by Andre Rublyof. In any case, this church was totally okay. It also had a really great old icon that I liked a lot. It was one of the ones of the mother and child, but this one was cool because Mary was really sad but Jesus was laughing. Usually he just looks serious, but he had a big old happy smile in this one. But Mary looked so sad—it was very human. I can't describe it.


We also saw the outside of a 18th century merchant's house. It was really only cool because it was old and had cool tiles on the outside of it. I guess the architecture is pretty cool, but we didn't get to go inside.


After that, we got to go back to the bus because everybody was cold and cranky. We drove around the city for a little while and then we got escorted down the main pedestrian street, Bolshaya Pokrovka. This was a lot like Nevsky Prospekt in Petersburg, but with less restaurants and even more designer stores.


At some point, I learned the factoid that the cost of living is the same in Nizhny-Novgorod as it is in Moscow, but the salaries are a fraction of what they are in Moscow. This is also interesting because Nizhny is a fairly small city—only about 1.5 million people. On the other hand, it must be growing because they were building umpteen million new apartment buildings. I dunno. It was nice, but I was too cold all the time to really appreciate it. I also bought myself some grotesque earrings that are not designer, but just ridiculous. But they're green, and I wanted them. Mostly because they're huge and ridiculous. I forgot to get the picture out of my camera, but there will be a picture soon.

Anyway, after lunch at the restaurant in the Kremlin, we continued our excursion with a tour of the Kremlin. This wasn't really any more than walking around outside for a while until everybody was thoroughly cold and grumpy. We did see the outside of a pretty cool church, and the eternal flame that they have up there for the WWII memorial.



After that, Evgenii proposed that he would lead an expedition to the universam to buy groceries and warm clothes because we were going to be outside a lot the next day. However, somewhere along the line, this turned into a quest for Baskin Robbins. Don't ask me how, because I don't know and can't explain. Granted, ice cream does taste better when it's cold, but why it had to be from Baskin Robbins is a complete mystery. Maybe just because Western is "better"—except that in most cases relating to food, it's not. Anyway, I followed Evgenii and a large group around the city on this absurd quest (there were two Baskin Robbins, but neither of them seemed to be in business as they had disappeared by the time we arrived), but bailed around the time he said that he would just go to McDonalds. Here's a monument I saw on the way.


So I headed down the pedestrian street with Laura F. on a quest for a warm coat for her (which she accomplished because money is no object, nor is she picky) and gloves for me (which was not accomplished because money does matter, and I'm really picky). I find the fact that she spends money like there's no tomorrow slightly amusing since I know she's on all kinds of scholarships. Well, maybe if the feds had given me more, I could buy fancy coats and go to the opera whenever I wanted too. But I also remembered why I try not to spend a lot of time with her—she's just really fucking annoying. She seems very nice, but she's just one of those people that tries too hard. She wants to be liked so much that she just overdoes it and just comes off as being weird and affected, or just annoying. She also talks funny. Yes, in both languages. Although Laura W. said it's because she's from Maryland and not because she has a speech impediment. Shto-ever.

But, while walking around with the obnoxious Laura F., I discovered something that made my soul happy: you can get take-out pizza in Russia. This is a country that doesn't really believe in take out (except for McDonalds and Teremok, which have walk-up windows) and most places will look at you strangely if you ask for something "to go." Anyway, Laura had said that she had seen a lady with a pizza box, so we went in and negotiated a mushroom pizza, to go. It was pretty tasty, although it had sour cream instead of tomato sauce. This was actually not quite as gross as it sounds. Actually, that's a lie. It was kinda gross. But, I ate it anyway.

Then I was tired from being hung over and having to endure the company of Laura F. for two hours and I was lame and went to bed around 8. It was also super cold in our room and I didn't really want to have to deal with going downstairs and talking with the people at the front desk to have them bring up a space heater, so it was just easier to take a long shower and go to bed. Laura W., my poor roommate, was very sad not to have someone to study GRE words with, and apparently I missed when her hairdryer started spewing sparks into her hair when it got fried in the electrical socket. But I had a real good 12 hour sleep.

Wow. It was a Friday the 13th and I didn't even notice.

So, to pick up where I left off, I woke up tired and cranky after waking up on the train after a less than full night of less than restful sleep. In addition to this, I was subjected to Kristin's inane comments about how we were now in "the real Russia" because we weren't in a city and were going by abandoned factories and apartment buildings. I'm glad that we still feel like Russia is totally back-ass-wards and that dilapidation and disrepair is its natural state.

Anyway, after our arrival in Nizhny-Novgorod, we schlepped all our stuff into a rented bus and rode to the hotel. Most of the ride was taken up with comments that we were "back in civilization" because cell phone service had returned. Half an hour after check-in (not really long enough to do more than brush your teeth and wish that you could take a nap) we met in the lobby to go to breakfast. Breakfast was at a restaurant in the Kremlin that we ended up eating most of our other meals at. Which was okay, because the lunches and dinners were much better than the breakfast we got. Don't get me wrong, I love kasha (oatmeal-y something), but this stuff was like cold congealed snot. Or something grosser, but that just makes me want to barf. And the sirniki (little cheese cakes made without cheese—don't even ask) were inedible, which made me want to cry. Anyway, breakfast was a letdown, combined with the bad news that were were going to be on a two-hour bus ride to a matryoshka factory. For those not in the know, matryoshkas are the brightly colored nesting dolls. The factory also makes other traditionally hand-painted wooden objects. Like spoons. And boxes. And really hideous end tables.

I passed out almost as soon as we got on the bus, as did almost everybody else. I think the poor guide was only talking to Margaret and Natasha, the tour coordinator. Even Evgenii Yurivich, the dean of our program who was along for the ride, was passed out. I know this because he had very rumpled hair and sleep marks on his face when we got off the bus.

Anyway, the factory was actually pretty cool. The guide had some kind of accent and she used a lot of words that I didn't understand, so I stopped trying to listen to her after the first five minutes of the tour. I realize that this doesn't say very much either for my language skills, or for my enthusiasm to learn, but it was cold outside and she was really boring. We did get a great tour of the factory, though. Apparently, they have a lot of tour groups come through so the workers aren't at all bothered by large groups of people coming through and taking lots of pictures. I felt like it was too much like a zoo, so I didn't take pictures of the people. I hate people taking pictures of me while I'm at work, so I figured I'd extend them the same courtesy. Instead, I took pictures of mass produced wooden products. One of the coolest things that I saw in the factory but couldn't get a picture of was a stencil of Lenin's head on a wall. However, his head was mostly covered up by nude calendars.

It was funny.

The factory also has a big museum of wooden crap that they make. And it's actually pretty crazy. They have all kinds of traditionally painted stuff—everything from dolls, and tables and chairs to plates, cups, and silverware, salt and pepper shakers, boxes, giant swans that serve no apparent purpose, and chess sets, and so much more that I can't even remember. They also have the most ginormous wooden spoon and bowl that I have ever seen in my life. There's a bad picture of it, but it doesn't even begin to convey the enormity. The spoon is at least 8 ft tall, probably 9 (because it's probably 3m and I wasn't paying attention to the guide).




Anyway, after lunch (which was actually really pretty good for the factory cafeteria), we hit up the souvenir shop and then hit the road south back to Nizhny-Novgorod. Although another word about food before I continue the saga. As most of you know, I'm a fairly picky eater. Granted, I've become less so as the years have progressed, but as of this summer, there were still things that I wouldn't really eat or that I would pick out and eat around. Like peppers. Or cucumber. Or weird things that looked funny. But here, I just eat whatever they put in front of me without asking any questions. Because as long as it tastes okay, I'd really probably rather not know what's in it. Take for example the Russian kotlet. I'm not sure if we have cutlets in the States, but I'm pretty sure that when Mom made something like that it involved chicken being breaded and fried. However, a Russian kotlet is mystery meat delux, but also fried. It usually tastes pretty good. Sometimes there's stuff in it other than meat that I hope is onion or garlic. Sometimes there's bone chunks. But anyway, I feel like the point that I'm fairly unsuccessfully trying to make is that Russia has made me a less picky eater. Whether or not I'm a better person for that remains to be seen.

I dozed on the way back to the hotel, but I was listening to Shooter Jennings and came to the abrupt realization that I was acutely unhappy. And the things to cure this acute unhappiness were about three 40s of PBR, a pack of Camel Lites, everybody's favorite "extracurricular activity," and a lot of pool. Seeing as my chances of getting any of those things (with the exception of the second) was nonexistent, I broke down and bought a pack of smokes. Because I've come the realization that this year is going to be like last year: it's going to suck a lot (really really a lot) and if I'm going to make it through and maintain some semblance of my sanity, I'm going to do whatever it takes. And if that means an occasional cigarette, maybe that's okay. I won't be happy about it, but I won't be killing myself either. I also bought a lot of vodka, and this is the night that I came to know the true meaning of the Russian phrase "Drinking vodka without beer is like throwing your money into the wind."

Now, everybody knows that vodka gets you drunk. Or at least it should. But I had about 9 shots of 45 proof vodka and was not drunk. Not even a little. I just got grumpy and irritated because I should have been drunk and everyone else around me was drunk. But let me back up a little and describe the revelries of the first night in Nizhny-Novgorod. It all started out with a party in Candice's room that everybody (except Margaret and Natasha) put in an appearance at, with Evgenii Yurivich as toastmaster. And he pours rather large shots. Even Claire turned up, and by the time I got there, she was fucking wasted. Which was funny, because she started trying to do drunk yoga and fell over. And then she spit in Candice's cup and fell over on her face. At some point, she also gave Laura W. the finger. So things went pretty well for a while, until people started to migrate downstairs to Phoebe and Jonathan's room. It was around this time that Reid slammed Laura F.'s fingers in the bathroom door. Not once, but twice, because he was drunk and couldn't figure out why the door wouldn't close and didn't connect the yelling with something he had done. Anyway, Laura was bawling and her hand was bleeding, but Evgenii, as the responsible adult, poured lemon vodka over the wound and then proposed another toast. He's my hero.

After Laura F. was bandaged and left to sleep off the remainder of her rudely shattered drunk, the few of us left made our way downstairs to Phoebe's. When we walked in, Candice was trying to pass out on the floor. She had been trying to match toasts with Evgenii and had come out rather the worse for wear. About five minutes later, she started barfing all over and was very ill for the rest of the night. The toastmaster kept drinking through it all, regaling us with the only line of the Marilyn Monroe song he knew: "I want to be loved by you..." Around the time that people started to wander off to bed and Phoebe announced that she also needed to barf, we were out of booze, and Evgenii issued an open invitation to get beer and drink on the street. Note that drinking on the street is illegal in Russia, and we didn't have our passports back form being registered at the hotel. However, this was all okay because "we would be with him, and he has a Russian passport." Anyway, because I was not drunk (still) but desperately wanted to be, I said I'd go along. So it ended up being me and Reid and Evgenii (who couldn't walk straight by this time) heading out to a bar.

The bartender was less than pleased when we came in, but was agreeable because we were taking the beers to go. Evgenii was much put out that they didn't have MGD and he had to have a Baltika. And I'll pause a moment just to say how fucked it is that he prefers to drink Miller over a perfectly acceptable beer like Baltika. Not that Baltika's great, but it actually tastes like beer, rather than stale pee. Now, I drink Miller too, but that's because pints are $1.50, not because I like it. He also gave me grief for smoking Camels, to which I was very tempted to say, "You smoke Parliments and Pall Malls. Don't even fucking start with me," but decided that it might just be better to say that I like the way they smell. Which is true. But seriously, how white trash do you get? He also has a mullet.

Anyway, after getting through most of the beer and most of another cigarette, I was feeling buzzed enough to hope that maybe I might get drunk after all. But alas, it was not to be. Had I had the foresight to have bought another beer, all would have been well, but I'm just not that cool. Anyway, remember kids, "Drinking vodka without beer is like throwing your money into the wind!"