Hello My Old Heart

I cannot believe I’ve been here for a week! We all agree that it seems like its been longer, but I think that’s a good sign. 

I dressed more appropriately for the weather today. I wrapped a thick scarf twice around my neck so that it felt more like an anaconda than an item of clothing when I was finished with it, but it came all the way up to my upper lip and my face felt less abused by the wind by the time I got to Smolny a little before 11 am. Magenta man ran past me again! What dedication.

Classes went well today. I don’t think I flailed that much, and I am continuing to learn lots of useful phrases. In fact, they’re so important and common that I learn them in class and can recognize them when I get home for dinner and talk to Nina Vasilievna. It’s so satisfying to enlarge my vocabulary! I feel like I’m becoming more of a human being with feelings and thoughts and less of, like, a baby troll. 

After classes finished around 2:30 pm we had a quick information session about the computer lab and library here at Smolny. I, unfortunately, was too busy sending emails when I should have been paying attention. For some reason, I cannot access my email on my laptop, and therefore, I cannot draft emails and access links unless its on my iPhone, which can be extremely inconvenient when it comes to setting up appointments or whatnot on Google Calendar. Is it because Conn is mad at me for going abroad? WHY?!

When we got done, a bunch of us decided to go to the Russian Museum (I know, I know, which one?! This one is just of Russian artists), which is right next to the Church on Spilled Blood on Nevsky Prospekt. I think we were all glad we went. I didn’t know too many of the artists, but I did see a portrait of Russian poet Anna Akhmatova and a few works by Mikhail Vrubel, who came up in a few Russian classes of mine this past semester. More than anything else I wish my parents could have come with me. I know they would have enjoyed themselves and they would have been able to appreciate all the different artistic styles thanks to their lovely art degrees (it wasn’t ALL a waste your time, mom and dad!), which, to be honest, really meant nothing to me. 

My favorite part of the entire museum turned out to be the temporary exhibit on what appeared to be Russian food. In sum, this was classy and sophisticated food porn, and I LOVED IT. There was some still life of actual plates with food on them (frozen in some curious clear liquid), a giant fish tank with a cucumber the size of a small toddler in it (not a real cucumber), a video of fish struggling to breath while they lay on ice at a market, tons of paintings of course, and this wicked cool piece of metal art. It was a cross section of a circular loaf of bread, and inside the hollow bread there was a hammer and sickle. Talk about THAT for symbolism! Woah!!

My favorite piece though had to be a large painting by Igor Peshkov, if I remember his name correctly. It was within this food exhibit, and apparently it was just painted last year in 2013. In short, this painting took up a big portion of the wall and depicted what looked like pieces of raw meat as they went through a metal grinder of sorts with sharp teeth and edges. The background was jet black, and the grinder and meat took up the whole painting, leaving very little extra (negative?) space. It wasn’t abstract at all, but instead incredibly realistic. For colors there was only black, white, and different shades of red and pink for the meat. Intrigued, I went up to the tag on the wall to the right of the painting to see who the artist was and what the painting was called. The painting was titled “Любовь” or “Love” in English. At first I took a step back and thought there was a mistake in the exhibit. Clearly this painting of meat being torn to pieces and ground up could not possibly be titled “Love.” It took me a few seconds to realize that there probably was no error here, and when I did, I laughed out loud with nobody else around me to hear except for the old babushka on the chair in the corner of the room who was probably staring me down to see if I would actually use the camera hanging around my neck (sadly pictures were not allowed in this museum). I took a few steps back to look at the painting with a new perspective, and I was suddenly flooded with thoughts about the dream I had last night in which I relived the horrors of my horrific fall semester. My dear Igor Peshkov, whatever is left of my own shredded, pulverized heart sympathizes with you. 

Thankfully the metro station wasn’t too far away from the museum when we wanted to head home. When I got home and unloaded everything from my pockets, I found the change I received when I bought my ticket at the museum. Now, I SPECIFICALLY remember telling myself as I searched for my wallet while waiting in line at the box office that it would be a good idea to break my 1,000 ruble bill here because restaurants and supermarkets in Petersburg often times hate to give change back and sometimes just flat out can't. I’m pretty sure I paid with an 1,000 ruble bill, and when I got my change back I stuffed it in my inside coat pocket immediately, without counting. However, when I got home and pulled out my change, I only had 350 rubles. The ticket was 150. Either I lost 500 rubles, the lady in the box office forgot to give me 500 rubles, I paid with a 500 ruble bill instead of an 1,000 like I planned, or I am losing my mind. Don’t freak out mom and dad, 500 rubles is only $15 dollars, but still. I am PISSED OFF. Did that lady add wrong?! Did I drop my money during that 2 second interval it took me to take the money in my hand and then zip it up in my pocket?! I really hope I paid with a 500 ruble bill without knowing (I swear I saw a 500 ruble bill in her hand at one point...). Next time I’m going to do the arithmetic right in front of the cashier person, even if it takes me 10 minutes to do it or if I need to whip out the calculator on my phone to do the math. I love you David Neilan, but I still cannot do math and you are allowed to be ashamed of me. I know this is a truly boring and unnecessary anecdote, but ranting about it makes me feel less insane. 

For dinner Alexander Grigorovich and I had buckwheat with vegatable stew and cabbage salad with cucumbers. Nina Vasilievna and Alexander Grigorovich asked me if I wanted any garlic. Garlic? There were full cloves of garlic in a bowl on the counter, and when Nina Vasilievna insisted that I eat it with my dinner, I got up and grabbed one. I held it in my hand wondering what in the world I do with it. Chop it up and put it in my stew? I couldn’t possibly just eat it raw. Confused, I held the garlic clove up in front of Alexander and asked if I just ate it as is. He said yes, and took a bite of his own clove right before following it up with a forkful of stew. Monkey see monkey do I guess! I didn’t mind it, but now my breath smells gross. Hah! I didn’t even think about it but at this very second I’m loading an episode of True Blood (and Game of Thrones duh). The irony.

Well, I’ve completed my homework and had a lovely successful Skype session. The rest of my night belongs to Bill Compton, Eric Northman, Ser Jorah and Rob Stark. 

TIME TO INDULGE. 

Frozen

Before I talk about my day, I have to tell you two little anecdotes about my dinner last night. Around mid perogi bite Nina Vasilievna opened the fridge and asked me if I liked the leftover breakfast kasha thing (was it really kasha? it contained rice and some yogurty, buttery mix in it) that I had not eaten that morning. I explained to her that I did like it, but when I walked into the kitchen that morning and saw my breakfast, a different breakfast, already on the table I just decided to eat that. She said that was no problem, and then continued to say things I didn’t understand. She put the “kasha” on the kitchen counter, and then opened the freezer. She brought out a rather large plastic bag with what looked like a frozen chicken inside (it was about the same size). The next thing I know, she opens the bag and what looked like a frozen ball of compost appeared. Thats right, just a ton of leftover food. I put my spoon down and asked myself, “oh my god did that come out of a dead shark?!” Nope. Nina Vasilievna proceeded to pour my uneaten kasha onto this frozen ball of food, for, if I understood correctly, the stray dogs wandering the streets. My heart glowed when I heard that. People have told me that Russians don’t really recycle, so I was incredibly surprised that she was so conscious about where her food/trash went. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been; Nina Vasilievna is an ecologist by trade apparently... 

Russians also supposedly use the expression “hump day” as well. While I was finishing up my dinner and Nina Vasilievna was doing dishes, she asked me what day of the week it was. I told her it was Wednesday, and when she asked me what the day after today was called, I said Thursday correctly. Then, she asked me if I knew what a верблюд (verbloud) was. Immediately about a thousand little bells went off in my head, but for some freaky reason I blanked. I’ve forgotten tons of words since I’ve been here, but I had not yet completely blanked on a word like that. It was on the tip of my tongue, and then Nina Vasilievna made a spitting motion (ahah!). After that, she took her hand a made an ark, as if to draw a hump. Ahhhhh DING DING DING! CAMEL! HUMP DAAAAEEY! I was SO ashamed of myself. I explained that the camel was the animal of my university, and that I knew the song оранжевый верблюд. I walk around Conn with a pin that has an orange camel on it with verbloud written underneath, for crying out loud. This pin is on my backpack, and therefore, I see this pin EVERYDAY. I couldn’t believe myself. I’ve been a very bad camel. 

Ok, now on to today, which was fairly uneventful. I got up around 9:30 am to darkness, as usual, and decided that I wanted to wear my black under armor spandex. As I was putting them on I thought to myself, you know Liv, this could either be a great idea, or it could be the worst idea ever. They are thin, but they could keep me warm, right? They're just so, snug! Well, as you can imagine, it was a terrible idea, and I will not be wearing ONLY spandex around this frigid city anymore. It’s 22:28 pm right now and my knees STILL sting from walking around today. It was so brutal, and I’m going to need to be more careful if I want to avoid getting sick, or even worse, frost bite. I don’t like to think about all the chain saw happy Dr. Zhivagos in this city that would be ready to amputate my legs because they’ve lost all function. One last thing about the cold (because I haven’t beaten this dead horse enough), when I made way across the bridge over the Neva to Smolny and stopped at a crosswalk, a man in his fifties, apparently out for a run in magenta and purple wind pants/jacket combo, stopped to wait to cross right next to me. I glanced up at him briefly, and I noticed that parts of his beard was frozen. The moisture from my breath also froze on my scarf. WHAT. 

Moving on, do you remember that little bubble of comfort and confidence I built for myself yesterday in terms of my language classes? Well, it didn’t pop today, but I think its being slowly deflated as I type. Classes went well today, but I’m starting to realize that there is so much to Russian I haven’t covered yet. I know the least amount of vocab out of everybody in our class, and although today was supposed to be review, I was scribbling down notes at 90 mph. It was a ton of information, but I’m tucking it into all the compartments of my brain that have room to spare. When I got home I completed my homework and, using a textbook from last semester, attempted to teach myself what the hell prefixes are. I wish I had one of Petko’s lovely slideshows to tell me what they meant, or Andrea to explain them to me in person, but this will have to do. I will of course probably end up meeting with my professors outside of class soon, but at this point when they ask us in class if we have any questions, I don’t ask any because I understand what they are telling us right then and there, but as a whole I just don’t have that many practice hours under my belt. I sound like I’m complaining- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to. I know what I was getting myself into when I chose to apply to Bard-Smolny, and consequentially, I’m willing to spend extra time learning all the things I should have before even applying to this program. I’m a little nervous, but in the big scheme of things I am not that worried, which is saying something coming from Liv the worry wart. In any sense, a friend in my program complimented me on my Russian today and said that I’m at her level, and she’s had 6 semesters compared to my 3. I told her that it wasn’t true (honestly), but that I owe everything I have at this point to amazing professors at home. It still made my day. I can do this! 

After classes we went to the Uzbek Palace for lunch, which was less than a 10 minute walk from Smolny (a serious step up from yesterday). I ordered a noodle dish with herbs, spices, eggs and minced beef and lamb. It was delicious, and for only $5 too! The nan we ordered was not like the nan at home, but like giant hunks of circular bread. This may sound odd, but I always feel like a peasant when I eat bread. I mean, how much more... primal/primitive/fundamental can you get by just eating straight up BREAD. Especially when its just a huge hunk. I don’t know, when people have been mad at their kings and governments in history bread always seems to be near the top of the list of things to have or bring back. If there’s nothing left, the first thing most people want is not democracy or power, but bread. Okaaaay. That was a really weird little window into my very overwhelmed brain. 

After lunch, Jackie, Will and I got on a marshrutka (a mini-bus of sorts- they’re tricky to explain) with hopes of making our way over to Vasilievsky Island. Not surprisingly, we got on a marshrutka that was headed the wrong way. We got off where there was a metro station though and just ended up taking that. When I finally got off my stop, I didn’t go straight home. Instead, I went in search of these mysterious gyms that supposedly exist in this city. I went to one address where the gym was MIA. Determined, I walked another 20 minutes to a different address where I spotted, like a beacon in the fog, a sign with ФИТНЕС (FITNESS) written on it from across the street. I shouted some remark of success out loud and made my way over. My knees, at this point, were on the verge of a breakdown it was that cold. However, when I finally made my way over to FITNESS, I a) had no way of getting in to, wait, where’s the door?! There was some key lock/caller apparatus, but I made up my mind after 30 seconds that I was not that desperate to call someone to let me in. That can’t be how it works here, can it? Plus, when I took a few steps back to look through the windows to see if I could get a better sense of this gym, I only saw yoga accessories and a sign with someone in a yoga pose. I shriveled in disappointment and silent anger, and groveled my way back to my host family’s apartment about 10 minutes back THAT WAY. 

I am so frustrated. WHY IS IT SO HARD TO FIND A GYM AROUND ME?! I think I have no other choice but to try and decipher this brail that is the public transportation system here. I tried to figure out which buses go where last night to no avail. I absolutely have to figure it all out though. I need to find a gym and there’s no way I can keep walking long distance in this cold. I cannot and will not get pneumonia, and I totally will if I continue to be a moron and wear just spandex around Petersburg. Common now. 

I think I just need to take a chill pill and enjoy myself. I’ll find a gym when I get a chance. Perhaps not tomorrow, but I know that I cannot wait any longer to go to the Hermitage or the Peter and Paul Fortress. I think I may just go to the latter tomorrow after our computer briefing at 3 pm. I don’t need to do a lot at the Peter and Paul Cathedral; I only need to find the Romanovs, say hi, tell them I’m sorry its taken me so long, that I’ll come back soon, and then say до свидания (dasvidaniya). 

Which is what I will say to you all now. Tootles! 

First Day (eyy a Meghan Mette original song YAAAA!)

Today was the first day of our 2 week language intensive. This intensive is just for us American students before classes actually begin at Smolny after the first week of February. We were placed into 3 groups without labels according to language proficiency, so it wasn’t stated who speaks the best and who doesn't. I had no idea that there were going to be only 3 groups, so I was pleasantly surprised and relieved to see that I was in a group with 4 other people (I’m not in my own special group for those that are behind in Russian hoorayy!). The groups were all pretty even too. 

First we had grammatika, which wasn’t that difficult. We went over prepositional case, which is something that we learn fairly early on, but there were a few things that I didn’t know (mainly crazy linguistic exceptions) so I appreciated the review. The class was also conducted ENTIRELY in Russian. Our teacher Natalia spoke slowly and enunciated every word thankfully, and I felt like I could keep up. Actually, I felt like I could totally hang with the other people in my group. I still have a ton less instruction than they do, and they totally have me at scary, grammatical demons such as prefixes and participles (synonyms = misery and suffering from what I understand), which I have not yet learned. Of course, this was just the first day. I’m sure the fluffy, soft, little bubble of comfort and confidence I built for myself in that 11:00 am- 12:30 pm period will be horrifically popped, like tomorrow. 

After a half an hour break we had phonetika. This class is going to be extremely important for us because it aims to cover topics and types of speech common to everyday activities, so basically the terms we’ll need to survive in the real world on our own. I have already learned a lot of new vocabulary between grammar and phonetics, and I am a grammar FIEND. I don’t know why, my vocabulary in english is nothing special whatsoever, but for some reason I really like learning new words in Russian. I think it has something to do with learning a brand new alphabet so recently, only three semesters ago. Because the cyrillic alphabet (it is seriously not that bad for those of you that don’t speak Russian) is so funny looking and so strange to my eyes that are already accustomed to a different alphabet, I believe that it actually helps me to remember vocab more efficiently. Because the words are odd and leave an impression as I write them in cursive over and over again, I think their uniqueness actually works advantageously to the disposition of my brain. I study vocab like its MA JOB and I work hard to remember new words, but I make mistakes and forget words literally all the time. I'm FAR from being confident at memorization and pronunciation. I spew errors like it's my second, third and fourth job, don't worry. Nevertheless, I find it oddly cathartic to write different Russian words in cursive... Okay, I can see that I’m losing most of you. That’s what you get when you agree to read an extremely nerdy person’s blog/journal, and consequentially, personal thoughts. 

STAY WITH ME HERE. 

After classes got out, a handful of us decided to find a place for lunch, preferably one with wi-fi. Shouldn’t be too difficult, right? There’s practically a cafe on every block, or a restaurant advertising a бизнес-ланч (business lunch) in most store windows. In reality, they’re really hard NOT to find. Well, you can only imagine our fate. We managed to somehow walk block after block, street after street, in a complete circle around Smolny without finding anything! I feel silly writing that because there’s no way that can be true! We walked around for HALF AN HOUR. I swear the streets were laughing at us themselves; “look at those hungry foreigners! Leave it to a bunch of Americans to look for cafes on the only 5 streets in St. Petersburg that don’t have any.” God DAMN. I even had a list of restaurants/cafes to check out (спасибо Джюти! I’m sorry if I just butchered your name), AND we had someone with wifi on their iPhone, but the iPhone led us astray, and alas, our stomachs were left empty, and at that point, forming internal icicles. Eventually we ended up exactly where we started, which at least gave us a point of reference. We then started walking along an embankment along the Neva and walked into the first place advertising food. It just happened to be a fancy palace. No big deal. 

There was nobody else in the palace-restaurant except for us, and before I could ask my friends what the prices were like, a waiter had already started taking our friend Hunter’s coat. The prices ended up being very way too fair for the quality we got. That’s one thing I will always prefer about Russia to the US: the prices of food. I ordered a fancy shmancy beet and goat cheese salad (oh my god DROOL) for only 300 rubles, which is $10 US dollars. Yes please! After that some of us split up, but me and two others made our way across the Neva and onto Vasilievsky Island, where we all live. We all wanted to find gyms, and with the wifi from the restaurant we just left we had a few addresses in mind. So we thought. Long story short we walked around Vasilievsky for another half an hour without finding ANY gyms where, according to Google, there were supposed to be a bunch. I’m sorry, but what the hell? Do my glasses not work in this city? Do Russians purposefully hide their gyms on the 7th floor of buildings because they know that ignorant Americans will not look up? I was sad to not have found anything, but I’m going to search for others tomorrow. I’m worried about what all this blini is doing to my stomach, but hey, I must have walked at least 3 miles today, if not more. 

At that point, Jackie, Hunter and I were beyond cold, tired, and in need of some cheering up. This cheering up happened to take the form of alcohol. Now, I’ve been in Russia since Thursday, so 6 days, and by some mean, twist of fate, until about 5:30 pm today I had not had a single drop of alcohol in me. In Russia. I felt completely and utterly blasphemous. So I guess the only way to right this wrong was to find a Belgian beer pub which is exactly what we ended up doing. Right? Right! It was underground, so it was immediately cool (yes, you can tell how many bars I’ve been to in my wee 20 years [ALMOST 21] of life). After getting situated I went to find a bathroom. I took off my glasses, gloves, and hat at the table, and when I found the bathroom and mirror I was able to take a look at my face. I looked like I had just been skiing the Rockies. My face was bright pink, and there was even a slight glasses tan. The wind had attacked my face so badly it looks like I was terribly sunburnt. Now, I don’t mean to rub it in (no pun intended), but have you ever seen ME sunburnt? I didn’t think so (that’s not completely true. I did burn and get a terrible sun rash in Georgia with the frisbee team last year - HI DASEIN AND CAMEL THROWS!). Teehee. 

Anyways, BEER. While Jackie and Will ordered something normal, I had to be the one to order the дабл шоколад стаут (Double Chocolate Stout). No shame. It was a little too dark for me, and the chocolate taste was so subtle that I’m convinced only some chocolate stout expert would be able to point out and say pretentious things like, “Oh oh oh! Do you taste the earthy cocoa bean? And the way the foam dissolves as it reaches the tip of your tongue and spreads its mocha elements??” Stop, please. I am clearly not that sophisticated when it comes to that kind of stuff. Its okay though. My blood can’t tell the difference!

It was still a lot of fun though. We talked for a long time, absorbed more wi-fi, and concluded that we should try and speak more Russian with each other. We left, and when I got home 5 minutes later, the apartment smelled delicious. Nina Vasilievna, bless her Russian soul, had made me a big bowl of pelmeni soup. Pelmeni are little dumplings. These ones had meat in them, and I gulped it down like a pelican. Then I went back to my room and started my homework. Yeah, homework. Ewww! Yuck! Who actually studies and goes to class when they study abroad? Kidding, kidding. Didn’t I just write a paragraph about how nerdy I get over Russian vocabulary? I couldn’t fake being cool even if I tried. I like school, okay?!

Tomorrow my search for the gym shall continue, but an even more dire need has arisen. Why, ohhh why in the world have I not visited my dear Nicholas yet?!? Nicholas II and his family’s remains are lying somewhere in the Peter and Paul cathedral, waiting patiently for me. And why, ohhh why in the world have I not been inside the Hermitage yet?! I’ve been here for 6 days and blug gla;h]8]30t$%^”:M:J:FEY*M>KNQ’U3RY0;ugf;adj!!! This is absolutely unacceptable and it must change immediately. 

To be honest, there's a part of me feels that some sort of moral obligation to go see the Romanovs ASAP. I genuinely feel like its my duty to go say hello, and that I’m being rude by merely being in Petersburg and not having taken the time out yet to go visit them. Do I sound like a crazy person? I think I sound like a crazy person. I won’t talk to0 much about them now because I’m sure I won’t be able to help myself once I actually do seek them out, but this excursion needs to happen. 

I also need to find the Yusupov palace. Why do I need to find this you ask? Oh, well, it just happens to be the palace where Rasputin was poisoined (cyanide in tea crumpets- how clever, Felix Yusupov), shot, and after managing to run out into the courtyard screaming bloody murder (heh, pun very intended), shot again, brutally beaten, bound, and finally chucked into the Neva river where he was reportedly to have died from... get reading for this, drowning. I’ll have to find a passage in Nicholas and Alexandra to share. 

This city is absolutely magical.

Daylight

I feel brutally sunburnt. My face is hot and my eyes sting. However, this is impossible because there is practically no sun to speak of (it must be all the wind). I left the apartment today at 9:40 am in order to get to Smolny around 10, and my walk was dark). Annnnd it’s dark outside now. The blue sky did manage to say hello today, but I don’t think I’ll see too much of the sun, at least for a couple of months. Kaitlin Cunningham, you sun hater, you would love it here! 

So I plugged in and tuned out on my 20 minute walk to school. Hee hee, it sounds like I’m in kindergarden, but to be honest I kind of felt like I was as I was walking across one of the bridges over the Neva because I never walked to school before. My lovely and sleep deprived dad left work twice a day every day to take Forest, Cooper and I to school and pick us up (shout out to dad! Love you!). Anyways, along similar lines, I’ve been feeling like I’m in kindergarden on multiple levels, mainly in terms of speaking. As far as language development goes, I would say I’m maybe 4 years old? 5? Good thing I still look the same as I did when I was that age (WHATEVER I’LL BE 21 SOON AYYAYAYAYAYYYYYYY!!). 

But I digress. Once at Smolny, we were called in one by one for oral exams with the RSL professors (RSL = Russian as a Second Language). I haven’t really processed the fact that I’m in St. Petersburg yet let alone the fact that I was about to have a test, so I wasn’t really nervous. In any case, what does it matter? I can’t fake how much Russian I know. Everybody else in this program has at least a year of Russian on me if not a lot more, plus summer language intensives. I understand that I started Russian late and that I’m going to be in a lower language group. Nevertheless, I’m here to learn a lot, and as a result, I truly don’t care about whichever level I place into (unless it's 101 in which case I’ll say some very nasty things... IN ENGLISH thank you very much). 

The oral went surprisingly well. I kept my ears open for words I did know and ignored all the rest. I was so excited when I heard “blah blah bleh blah blah tell us a little bit about yourself blah blah blah,” for every once in a while my Russian professor back home Petko would point to some unlucky soul in class and ask him or her to say anything about themselves for a minute, or however long he decided. As a result, I think I was at least a wee bit  prepared to spew random facts one after the other BAM BAM BAM! I HAVE 2 BROTHERS BAM! AND ONE WHITE SMALL EVIL DOG BAM! HER NAME IS TAFFY BAM! I think I left oral exam satisfied because there wasn’t one question where I had to tell them to repeat or that I didn’t understand. It could have totally happened but if it did I didn’t notice. Ignorance is bliss :)

After the oral exam I had to take a written one. The first 2-3 pages were easy peasy, and then, oh ho ho, I found myself ON MARS. I blindly invented reasons why a, b, or c was the correct answer, but I knew this test would be very telling to my RSL professors. On page 3 or 4, at the very bottom I actually wrote, “мне трудно отвечать здесь до --------”

which translates to “It is difficult for me to answer here until ----------” and I extended this line, on the bottom of each page, until the end. I hope they find me pitifully cute. 

No matter. After that we went over the schedule (excuse me, Michael, which classes are in English??) and then we went out to lunch where we had a delicious salad which I really wish I had asked the name of, in hindsight, and a beef stew that DID NOT COOL OFF. My last bite of the damn dish burned my tongue. But then we had ice cream. And then hot tea. And then one of the RSL professors who ate with us, at my table specifically, asked me what I like to eat at home. I misunderstood and told her that I had a small white dog (weird look)... Uhhh, I play frisbee? (Laughs). Once she clarified, I smacked my hand on my forehead, laughed at myself, and told her that no, I do not love to eat my dog. 

Silly, silly Liv. Where do you think you are? China? No offense to the Chinese whatsoever, you big, powerful, communist country you. 

Later we all found ourselves at the bank. I wanted to exchange more dollars to rubles but the ATM exchange machine ate my friend Clarissa’s money right in front of my eyes, to which I was like SCREW THAT. Then we all needed to get internet modems, so we went to Megafon. Okay, so I’m not too technologically savvy. If I went to Best Buy and asked for a internet modem, and furthermore, how it works, I’m almost positive the answer still wouldn’t mean anything to me in English. Now, imagine all that in a foreign language. Yeah, poor Ivan who tried to explain the internet modem to 4 American girls. We eventually all just payed 1,000 rubles which is around $30 for a month of unlimited internet. Luckily, it works (nice job, Russia). I’m connected to the internet now, and I find that I’m breathing a lot easier (metaphorically yes). 

Deciding what to do next after Megafon, I ended up with a group who wanted to check out a mall. Clothes in Russia, unlike most things, are extremely expensive, so I didn’t really have anything I needed to get. I am in search of Sochi gear though... When we got sick of the mall (which was quite small, this one), we went to КОФЕ- ХАУС (Coffee House) where Jackie and I split a mint tea pot with honey. When we left, we bought подорожник (metro passes) and rode the appropriate trains, made the appropriate transfers, and said see you tomorrow. 

My goal for tomorrow is to find a gym. I desperately need to run. Let’s see how filling out a membership goes. I plan on telling whoever that, in this order, I speak and understand Russian badly, but I am here for 4 months and there I want a membership. Easy enough? NEVER IN RUSSIA. 

Winter Winds

I need to stop agreeing to having tea at dinner because I can’t fall asleep at night. I told my host mom this at dinner, and after all the walking I did today I’m sure I’ll be asleep before 11 pm. 

After breakfast today (kasha and blini), I took the metro from the nearest station, Vasilieovstrokaya (sp?), to Nevsky prospekt where I was supposed to meet my group before we went on an excursion to the Church on Spilled Blood. Getting onto the right metro and getting off at the right stop was fairly easy. I only had one ride before I needed to get off, but still. Small victories! It doesn’t seem like the St. Petersburg metro is going to be THAT bad; it’s certainly not worse than the one in New York or Paris. 

Once I got off at my stop, I went in search for the exit when I ran into two of the students in my program Jackie and Will. We found the right exit and met up with our group, and then we all set off along Nevsky prospekt to the church. I remember congregating outside and spending at least a good few minutes listening to whatever Elena was saying or doing whatever it is that I do when I don’t pay attention before I turned my head to the right and saw the church peeking behind some buildings. It is so big, so colorful, and so hard to miss that I shocked myself for not having tried to spot it in the first place. That’s what I’ve noticed about traveling to places that have famous monuments or certain streets that you read about in detail and eventually dream up in your mind. They are just buildings or monuments after all. They’ve been there for years (sometimes hundreds), and they’re not moving anytime soon. I have been so excited to see this church, and when I finally caught a glimpse of it, just chillin’ there, I felt extra crazy when all I wanted to do was jump up and down and scream something when, in reality, people are shopping and walking to work or school all around me as if the church they’re were walking pass was your everyday shrub. IT’S NOT A SHRUB, GOD DAMNIT. Of course, there are so many people that revere this church and its not like I get hysteric when I drive into Boston or anything. It’s all taken into perspective. Whatever, I was still ecstatic. 

Now, a few words about this church (its just such a cool story). So basically, one of Russia’s most reform-successful and beloved tsars Alexander II (also known as the Tsar Liberator) was blown up by terrorists on the street and in his memory, his son Alexander III decided to build a memorial church on top of the exact spot where the Narodnia Voila terrorist group threw a bomb first under Alexander II’s carriage unsuccessfully, and when the Tsar got out of the carriage to check things out, right at his feet. And just cause I want you all to read Robert K. Massie’s book, I’m just gonna quote that 

“Alexander II’s legs were torn away, his stomach ripped open, his face mutilated. Sill alive and conscious, he whispered, ‘To the palace, to die there.’ What remained of him was picked up and carried into the Winter Palace, leaving a trail of thick drops of black blood up the marble stairs.”

Because I know all of you find some pleasure in reading about gory things. Teehee. But seriously, how fricken cool! 

Moving on, the church itself is beautiful. I’ll have to compare it to St. Basil’s when we go to Moscow in April, but this one is definitely smaller. It’s still full of religious pictures and crazy colored onion domes though. The inside is what you would expect of such an extravagant church. We went on a tour in Russian, which means that I didn’t understand much, but at least I know the story behind it. There was a giant door that looked like it was covered in jolly ranchers, a notable chandelier (loostra Dana Sorkin!!), and a little wooden structure built around the divit in the ground where that famous bomb landed and that famous Tsar stood. Other than that, there were very pretty frescoes (is that what they were?) and what I did catch from the tour was that amongst the Russian style there was a little Italian influence mixed in... I’ll take it!

After that a bunch of us went to an exhibition featuring different things from the siege of Leningrad. Like I mentioned in a previous post, the anniversary of the lifting of the siege is tomorrow, so the city is celebrating. What we saw were some imitation bulletin boards with really cold Soviet posters and some black spike things on the ground. Hmm, what are they called? Forest would know. They were all over the ground when the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy in We Were Soldiers. Clearly I know my military history. 

Anyways, after that we just wandered the city. I named this post Winter Winds because it was freezing outside. Like the kind of cold where I could feel my face when I talked and my knees contract with stiffness when I moved. I am always a little dragon when I go outside because I can see my breath every time I breathe.  

Some people were hungry, so we went into a stolovaya. I can’t remember if I learned this  in class or if what I’m about to write is an educated guess, but I’m pretty sure a stolovaya is a legacy from the Soviet Union. Basically they’re cafeterias where you point to things you want and pay at a cashier. I had already eaten lunch, so I bought some water (did I tell you that you’re not allowed to drink the water here?) and soaked up all the wifi I could handle. Our next stop was an electronics store where I attempted to buy an internet modem that I could use at home (my host family doesn’t have internet). I went up to one of the employees and asked if he had an internet modem, and what do I get? The fastest Russian I’ve heard yet. I maybe looked at him for a second when he stopped talking, gave up, and turned immediately to my friends and said “HELP ME.” Someone came to my rescue thank god, but it turns out I needed to have my real passport (not a copy) with me in order to even purchase the thing, the fools. We get our passports back tomorrow so no big deal, but common. I’m a child of the 90s. I want my Facebook, email, snapchat, and BBC and I WANT IT NOW (somebody slap me!). 

After that we walked down Nevsky Prospekt and went to a book store (which really looked like a palace. Wait, was it once upon a time??), sports clothes store (I wanted a hat but it cost $80 yeeeeeah right), and then, by complete accident, we turned a corner and found ourselves magically in front of the Winter Palace and at the corner of Palace Square. I don’t think anybody else stopped walking, but I literally stopped in my tracks and threw my hands up and down onto my head as I shouted, “WOO HOO!!!!! ITS THE WINTER PALACE!!!!!” Better than Christmas. 

SO much better than Christmas!

I couldn’t feel my hands as I dug my camera out from my backpack. Of course I thought it would be smart to use my wide lens and leave the other one at home (it wasn’t smart), so most of my pictures from today are big close ups. No matter, I skipped to the Winter Palace/Hermitage with Red Bull in my LL Bean boots. All I could think of was how I spent 2 MONTHS this summer researching how the British and American press reacted to the reforms of 1905, and how those reforms were triggered by Bloody Sunday. Briefly, Bloody Sunday refers to when, at the end of January in 1905, a priest organized a large group of St. Petersburg’s working class to march to the Winter Palace to present the Tsar with a petition for change, listing very carefully all their grievances and pleas for help. However, when they finally made it to Palace Square and approached the palace, the palace guard mistook them for a threat and ended up shooting the workers right then and there (TSAR NICHOLAS II DID NOT ORDER THE SHOOTINGS). 

Isn’t that spooky? I was walking over the same cobblestones on which people were shot in 1905. Their blood was on those cobblestones at some point. I love history for a lot of reasons, but this has got to be one of the largest. It’s really hard for me to visualize and genuinely understand history in terms of time and space, if that makes any sense. I remember standing in front of the Champs Elysees and the Bastille in Paris too, just like today, trying to picture what happened in these places in 1789 and 1945. I can imagine how things were, but I can’t REALLY grasp it most of the time. It’s a feeling you get- some people say it’ll give them chills. It’s those times, those split seconds, when you come ridiculously close to understanding what happened there (I’m sorry this is really hard to explain) that have made me love history; those split seconds when your entire body and mind get it. 

Enough with the cheesiness. 

I think I was so franticly excited and cold and my body was so tired when we went to Palace Square that thats why I didn’t get that feeling today, but I plan on going back a bunch of times throughout the semester just by myself to sort of, uh, meditate? (Yes, I’ll go with that) and hopefully I’ll be able to soak it all up more effectively then. 

On the way back I started to wonder where the Bronze Horseman statue was located. About three seconds later I looked through the trees randomly and spotted what I thought was the Bronze Horseman himself! I spied correctly. We took pictures, I remembered the poem, and then we split up to go home. Twenty minutes later I was a street over from my apartment where there are a ton of cafes and shops. Jackie and I bought winter hats (the Russians really like to have giant pom poms on the top of their hats), tapotchku (Russian slippers that you have to wear in the house) and then we went home.

And here I am now. Tomorrow we’re having language evaluations. GAH.

Wish me luck!

P.S. To my Russian 201 class: today I saw a чёрный бумер!!!! я очень вас люблю а я скучаю (is that the correct conjugation?) по вам! 

Little Talks

Ok, disclaimer: I’m treating this blog as if it were a journal. By that I mean I’m writing most of this down for those that are interested in reading, but more so for myself to read years down the line. With that said, my entries will sometimes be LOOOOOONG so I can capture all the little details, again, just for myself even if nobody else reads. 

This was also written yesterday.

In any sense, I’m feeling really good about today! The first half of it was spent finishing up orientation at Smolny, where Michael and Elena continued to lecture us about different things we should be aware of. Today consisted of more cultural notes, health, going out (emphasis on drinking), making Russian friends, and host families. Once again, I know they didn’t mean to, but they managed to make me even more paranoid than I was yesterday. I forgot to note in yesterdays post that my rant of all the things I was afraid of were obvious exaggerations, and I want to underline that here too. The Bard-Smolny coordinators are purposefully giving us extreme cases so that we take extra precaution and that in most cases we probably won’t encounter these scary things, but it’s been working because I know I’ll have most of their horrific anecdotes in the back of my head for a while. I’m sure it’ll wear off as I become more comfortable here, but for now I am evermore cautious about entering restaurants that don’t look clean, for example (seems like a no brainer, but I kind of turn into an animal when I’m hungry so everything goes). 

Some points were more interesting, especially the information about the cultural sensitivity surrounding World War II and politics. Not that I can really voice my opinions about either in Russian at this point, but they advised us to avoid these types of topics. Why? Weeell, a lot of it has to do with the fact that most Americans cannot comprehend how much World War II absolutely obliterated Russia. We were told not to throw food out ourselves if we weren’t going to finish it because to a lot of families the effects of the siege of Leningrad and later, the 90s, still resonate with many Russians. I personally cannot understand that Russia’s second largest city was pretty much strangled of resourses. Michael told us that people were forced to eat rats and he even invoked the word “cannibalism”. By the way, the anniversary of the lifting of the 900 day (900 DAYS!) long siege will be celebrated here on Monday, and if you pay attention when you walk around you’ll see signs and flags on lamp posts. I’m looking forward to seeing how the city will celebrate, but seriously. Can you imagine if D.C. or New York or L.A. was starved to death for that long? Holy SHIT. No wonder the Russians are so opinionated. 

Along similar lines, if we want to stay on good terms with Russians, we can’t really mention anything about the American war effort during World War II because Russians believe that they did majority of the work. I don’t know that much about WWII to say whether thats wrong or right, but in an odd way I think its really cool that an entire population can feel so strongly and believe something so wholeheartedly so long after the fact (again, not saying that’s morally sound. Germany certainly felt united ideologically during WWII and that was obviously not acceptable). This is a good example of why I love history though- WWII may have ended almost 50 years ago, but its sooo not history to the Russians. It seems like it’s still a very recent memory. 

Michael and Elena also talked about other scary things like how we should walk closer to the street when we’re walking on sidewalks to avoid falling icicles that have apparently killed people before. All I could think about was the Grey’s Anatomy episode (yes, I’m going there) when Christina gets impaled by an icicle, except this is REAL LIFE and the icicles here are 10-12 FEET long. Even the prospects of getting treated by Owen Hunt wouldn’t bring me to risk having one of those fall on me (Dr. Shepherd is another story  ;). 

More things to avoid include the street called Doomskaya. It’s a well known street in St. Petersburg that’s filled with bars and clubs, and a lot of foreigners go there. Sounds good, right? WRONG. Apparently police do random raids there and ask for dokumenty often. People are violent, and drinks are notorious for being spiked there (sometimes by the bartender him/herself!). Isn’t the name of the street fitting? I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon. 

After we wrapped up and had lunch we rounded up all our suitcases and proceeded to get dropped off at our host families. Part of me was really nervous because I honestly cannot really express myself in Russian. I can say basic phrases and understand the jist of something and if someone doesn’t speak too fast, but even then I never understand every single word of what he or she says. I’m not being humble; it’s just the truth. Anyway, I was the first stop for those in the bus driving all over Vasilievsky Island because I live the closest to Smolny. Elena was nice enough to walk all of us up to our apartments and personally introduce us to our host parents, which comforted me a lot because greeting in Russian can be a lot to keep track of (or at least it was today. Do I shake hands? How do I address them?). Nevertheless, as I was pathetically dragging my 50 lb suitcase step by step up the first flight of stairs we happened to meet my host dad, Alexander Grigorevich, on the stairwell. He helped me with my bags, and as I said thank you I warned him that my suitcase was heavy. Normally I would try and do it myself because Alexander was clearly on his way out (I did try), but the gender roles here are still pretty conservative in Russia (enough to make some people really mad in the states, I would imagine), and with a nice reminder from Elena that I was a girl, I gave up and let him take my suitcase. Once I got to the top of the stairs and into the entrance of the apartment, I was greeted by Alexander, which really consisted of a string of words that meant NOTHING to me until he said, very clearly, that he was Alexander. I told him it was nice to meet him. Next I met my host mom Nina Vasilievna, who has a sweet, jolly look about her. I was told that she was around 55, but I think it’s outdated because they seem a little older. In any case, Nina led me into my room where I started to unload my stuff. I said goodbye to Elena, and thus began my interactions with Nina Vasilievna. 

In short, I think I’m going to love this woman. She seems like a happy, patient woman who was very welcoming and gave me a nice tour. I could understand bits and pieces of what she said, but I must have said that I didn’t understand at least 3 different times within the first handful of conversations. Oh well, to be expected. I stutter and get things wrong left and right, but she is understanding and helps me out when I’m stuck. She also likes to repeat words if I’m off grammatically or with my pronunciation, which I actually don’t mind whatsoever. In fact, I’m super happy she does. 

I unpacked in my room and prepared for my first mission: exchanging money. Nina Vasilievna gave me keys (there are 3 that I need to use to get from the street to her apartment) and she showed me how to use them. While it took me a good 5 minutes to open the door when I finally came back, I think I’ll get the handle of it soon enough. Eventually I crossed her street and entered “Bank Renaissance.” I noticed the ATM was out of order but went in anyway to a room with chairs in front of desks and whatnot. I think I was greeted (maybe ?) when, after I didn’t respond, a woman poked her head around the corner and I told her that I needed to exchange dollars into rubles. What I understood of her reply is as follows “something something something I’m sorry, we something something something. Something something something, lots of banks (with a point out the window) something something something.” Gotcha. I said thanks, goodbye, and I went out in search of another bank. I immediately spotted a few on the opposite street, but decided to walk around a while before I made my way over there. When I finally got inside the bank, I had to ask another woman the same question. She replied to me in gibberish and when she picked up that I had no idea what she was saying, she very kindly and patiently showed me where to go. I finally met a different woman and repeated my memorized line about exchanging money. We completed the transaction, but while we was printing whatever forms she needed to, I started thinking. I’m undoubtedly a foreigner that knows little Russian... They could have SO taken advantage of me and not given me the correct sum, and I wouldn’t have even know how to protest. Luckily I did the math quickly on my phone and checked the money before I left her counter. Success!

I left feeling pretty good. It was ugly and bumpy and awkward, but hey! I got my money. I decided to explore some more, and so I set off to find the nearest metro station, which happens to be a 10 minute walk from my apartment (SCORE). I walked for half an hour more, passing numerous cafes, bars, restaurants, and shops while making mental notes about coming back to them. I also noticed a KFC, Burger King, Pizza Hut, and the prettiest McDonalds building you’ve ever seen. There was even one singer on the street who sang “It’s Complicated” and “Bring Me to Life.” Interesting choices...

I made it back in time a little bit before dinner. I found out that Nina’s husband was out for dinner, so it was just us two (is that him now? He’s back). I was incredibly nervous about sitting through a dinner with this woman, worrying how in the world I was going to talk, but I surprised myself! I have low expectations for myself, which I think is good at times because I’m happy with our conversations and anytime I understand something. I talked about my family and asked about hers, and we talked about food. She quizzed me about the names of the food on my plate (SHE’S PERFECT FOR ME), and I really got into it. After the main course which was delicious (chicken, some pepper vegetable dish, and mashed potatoes with carrots mixed in) we had blini with some jam made with a fruit from Georgia that she helped me pronounce throughout dinner (fey-who-ah). Then, when we were done, we talked some more about my classes and then she quizzed me about what was in my bedroom according to their relation to one another. After that, we went over all the different things on the walls of her kitchen, her having me practice reading off of posters, her correcting my pronunciation, and her explaining to me words I didn’t know in Russian. I feel more comfortable than I thought I would making mistakes in front of her, and she told me to go relax when I offered to help in the kitchen. 

Now, I’m going to curl up in bed and get back to Eat Pray Love. Nina and Alexander don’t have internet here, which I say is nice because it forces me to read and study instead of watch reruns of True Blood or Game of Thrones. It’s kind of like camping. But I only like camping for a few days, which is why I plan on buying a jump modem tomorrow. 

AFTER WE GO VISIT THE CHURCH ON SPILLED BLOOD YES YES YES!

I have to take the metro by myself tomorrow- wish me luck!

P.S. Nina and Alexander have a cat, Emelya, that has such a distinct personality. He has one of those faces that distinguish those fluffy, stub nosed/face cats that make them looked pissed all the time, but he came into my room (I could hear his nails get stuck in the rug) and told me he wanted some attention. He liked to be pet like a dog behind the ears, but he quickly batted my hand away when I went to scratch his belly. Adorably feisty. 

At the Beginning

Today was the first full day of orientation, and as expected, we had a ton of information thrown at us. After breakfast (yogurt, toast with cherry jelly, apple and orange slices, bread with cheese, and some kasha...?) our program coordinator Michael walked us to the Smolny institute where we’ll be having all our classes. We left our hotel after 10 am, and it was still dark outside.

Before I go any further, I must add that Smolny was a legitimate palace. It used to belong to the illegitimate son of Catherine the Great, and the main entrance has an elegant staircase and beautiful dome ceiling with a fancy chandelier to top it all off. I have classes in a PALACE! 

Anyways, once we arrived there we occupied a classroom where Michael and the other program coordinators proceeded to give us the low down on all the necessary topics such as transportation, documents, safety, cell phones, police, sensitive subjects like LGBTQ in Russia, exchanging money, etc... I don’t think they meant to scare us with all the details and caveats, but I was thoroughly terrified by the time we had a coffee break. I left the classroom thinking that I was going to get stopped by a policeman the second I was by myself and forced to show my documents and/or pay them a bribe. For the first time in my entire life, I am all the more aware that I don’t look fully caucasian because apparently that could get me into some less than desirable situations. After that meeting, I left never wanting to get into a taxi for fear of being abducted, I have been persuaded to stay away from any large crowds, I’m afraid to take pictures of anything related to the military (in St. Petersburg? You’ve got to be kidding me), I’m afraid people are going to fondle me or run me over (or both) in the metro, I’m afraid the ATMs will eat my credit card, I’m afraid I’ll get stuck on the wrong side of the island when the bridges start to go up at night, I’m afraid I’ll say something I’m not supposed to about World War II, I have no idea how I’m going to buy something at a grocery store, I’m afraid of exchanging my money, and, without a doubt, I KNOW I’m going to get lost a thousand times. Oh, and I’m afraid to mutter any English because foreigners attract attention. It’s a good thing people can tell I’m American by the way I walk and how I talk (not to mention the fact that I am a walking LL Bean catalogue). CHEERS. 

Besides all that, things are going swimmingly. We had lunch after all the orientation talk which consisted of a salad, borsht (I’M REALLY IN RUSSIA), and pork and rice (what was I saying?). Then, we boarded a coach-like bus for a tour of the city... In Russian. The tour was given by our program assistant, Elena, who is not only the friendliest, most cheerful Russian woman I have ever met, but that goes for all people. She could also be a model. Anyways, I could only understand about 30% of whatever she was saying at a given time, but because I have a fairly decent grasp of St. Petersburg history I kind of expected what sort of descriptions she would give so that when she finally gave them, I had my ears open for the right words. We drove around St. Isaac’s cathedral first, and then made our way over a bridge and onto Vasilievsky Island. I think we drove past the street I’m living on (I’ll find out tomorrow!) and if so, it seems like I’m within walking distance to most places, including Smolny which is a relief. After that we drove across the Winter Palace (holla!!) and towards the Peter and Paul Fortress (Nicholas II, I’M COMING FOR YOUUU!!!). After that we went east towards the Smolny Cathedral (not to be confused with the institute I’m studying at) which is a beautiful white and blue building with all the iconic domes and whatnot. Apparently it used to be the school for girls of the nobility, and we have Catherine the Great to thank for that. 

I’m really appreciative of the bus tour, for I feel like I have a better sense of where things are located in relation to each other. It was also just great to see more of the city. When you learn about St. Petersburg in the context of other European cities, you think of it as younger and constantly trying to catch up with the West. While this is still true in terms of society and politics, on the outside it is unmistakably an old European city in my opinion. I was really surprised at how much I underestimated how old this city looks and is. It was founded in 1703 after all, but it really has that historic feel to it which makes my insides all tingly cause its just SO. COOL. The buildings are very tall and run down looking, but its charming all the same. They are also, surprisingly enough, quite colorful. The snow, which seems to always be falling or blowing around, makes everything dirty and gray, but I was taken aback at how many yellow buildings there are. There are numerous pink and blue buildings as well, many of which are decorated with fancy trims or columns. 

After our bus tour Elena wanted to take us down to the metro to do a practice run just to give us a better sense of how the metro system works. Now, the St. Petersburg metro is the deepest in the world. St. Petersburg was built on a marsh (smooth Peter), so you have to go down that deep in order to, you know, have any sort of stability. Well, they aren’t lying. Once you enter the metro, you take an escalator down for a few minutes down to what seems like a depth on par with purgatory or Dante’s inferno. You get lost in all the people (or should I say schools of fish) that are shuffling from one line to another, covered in fur jackets (ugh) of all colors on their way to or from work. Riding the metro was fine- the whole system doesn’t seem THAT difficult, but ask me how I feel a week from now when I’ve probably messed up 5 times (this is all dependent on if I can even converse with some lady behind a counter in order to get the necessary tokens). We’ll see. 

After that we went to dinner at some restaurant with Da Vinci in the title, and now I’m back at the hotel writing all this down and digesting. Until next time!

P.S. If anybody was curious, I’ve decided to name each blog post after a song. One of my favorite TV shows does it and I thought it could be cool JUST BECAUSE. 

Hop a Plane

Here's what I wrote last night. I know it's dauntingly long, but I swear they won't be this lengthy all the time! 

Greetings from St. Petersburg! It’s almost 7:30 pm here and I don’t know which side is up. I am so disoriented in terms of the time change and my body is feels like its been awake for DAYS, but I wanted to get this blog started before the chaos that is orientation starts tomorrow. 

I guess my traveling began when I woke up yesterday at 6 am to get ready for my flight from Portland to JFK that may or may not have been cancelled at any moment due to snow. I had been checking my flight status nonstop the day before, and because I guess I must enjoy stressing myself on some unconscious level, I didn’t get very much sleep that night. Thank the gods my flight to JFK took off when it was supposed to, and from there I met my group and everything was pretty easy. 

While I was waiting at my gate at the Portland Jetport yesterday morning, I opened a new book to pass the time. I only brought two books (for pleasure) with me abroad, and I know this blog isn’t supposed to be a book review, but I really just want to rant about them both here quickly. There was no question about my bringing Nicholas and Alexandra by Robert K. Massie. It’s a historical nonfiction book about the life of the last Tsar of Russia, Nicholas II, and I undoubtedly owe much of my current fascination with Russia to this book. I’ve read it a few times before, but the author is so descriptive about St. Petersburg and all the places that Nicholas and his family spent time in or around that I consider it to be one of the best travel books I could have chosen to bring with me during my study away semester here. Even if you don’t like history or nonfiction, I highly recommend this book for anybody even remotely interested in Russia or a good read (or romance, or drama, or sociology, or politics, etc...) I kid you not, it reads like a novel. 

The second book I brought with me, and that which I decided to open at the Portland Jetport is Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I knew it was supposed to be a book about traveling and that the movie with Julia Roberts looked worth watching, but more than anything it seemed like a feel-good book, and lets be real, my soul has been desperately in need of a hug for a while now. Elizabeth Gilbert, to say the least, is a hilarious writer. The grief and depression she goes through in the book is by no means laughable, but she makes it comical sometimes. On one page I found myself furiously fighting back tears while I sat waiting at gate 6, only to find myself chuckling out loud a few pages later (the lady sitting across from me must have thought I was on drugs). I would also recommend this book to anyone who feels like they’re in a funk. It’ll probably put your problems into perspective and make you laugh (and/or sob) along the way. 

Anyways, getting back to the traveling, once I met up with my Bard-Smolny study abroad group at JFK we took a red eye to Helsinki, and then a quick flight to Pulkovo airport. Once we got our baggage we then took a bus from the airport into the city, and although I was struggling to keep my eyes open throughout most of the bus ride, I noticed that we did drive past the huge Lenin statue in Moskovskaya square, a giant statue of Nicholas I on a horse in the middle of another square, and St. Isaac’s Cathedral. It was definitely enough to wake me up and remind me of why I chose to come to St. Petersburg in the first place. 

Besides that, things are seriously gray. Some other random observations include that Russians drive a lot of American cars., and yes, they really do wear those furry hats that look like woodland creatures. There’s more English on signs and billboards than I expected. There seem to be a lot more parks and wooded areas spread throughout the city, which is wicked cool. Along those lines, I saw people with BABY strollers walking through these parks (through the vicious elements), all bundled up enough so you couldn’t see their faces. It seems as if those babies are introduced to the cold right from the get go. I also don’t want to make any generalizations about the weather considering I haven’t even been here 24 hours, but just based on today it’s not that much worse than a pretty awful day during a Maine winter. Is that comforting? Maybe not. 

I do want to end this first blog post with a little anecdote from my flight from Portland to JFK (and then I promise I’ll wrap up). During that flight, I happened to be seated next to a Ms. Nina Blackwood (so her boarding pass read). She had crazy, uncombed gray hair and a raspy smoker’s voice. I didn’t really hear her speak until the flight attendant made his way over to us with snacks. When he finally turned and looked at Nina and asked, “nuts or cookies?” she responded back with “you know what they say! You are what you eat; nuts!” After our initial laughter the flight attendant then looked at me, and I said that I would have what she’s having, to which Nina asked, “are YOU nuts?” as if it were some sing-a-long, call and respond game. Before I registered the words that were coming out of my mouth, I heard myself say, “Oh I definitely am!” 

All you have to do is ask me where I'm headed.