Breathe (2AM)

(From 5/8)

Well, this is going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, and I already expected it to be absolutely brutal. I’ve just gotten back to my room after my last dinner with my host mom, and I’m so terribly upset to leave her tomorrow. 

So, something happened to me my junior or senior year in high school. I never thought I could cry out of happiness. I believed for the longest time that, if I chose to have children, I would be abnormal in that I wouldn’t be able to cry after the birth of my first child. Or whatever (that seems like the #1 thing adults cry out of happiness for. Or a wedding). And then I watched that one Grey’s Anatomy episode when Meredith built a house of candles for Derek (“Olivia. Is everything okay?” - Dad), and then I bawled when I got into college. And then I found out that I couldn’t handle winning, or losing obviously, big sports games. To this day, I can’t watch anything to do with motivational speeches, Nike ads, or team celebrations. The Olympics? Forget it. The upcoming World Cup? I’m definitely going to choke back some ugly tears. I don’t know why, but I’ve become a mess when it comes to emotions, and luckily (I guess), I’m getting used to really embracing my nervous wreck... ness. 

I am, without a doubt, one of those people who could never say “I never cry.” I cry all the damn time. I’m an emotional person, but this somehow became amplified since the last few years of high school, and now, as a result, I just have to accept that I’m going to be a basket case when it comes to change and coming back home. 

So, I know I’m going to be really visibly upset tomorrow when I say goodbye to Nina Vasilievna, but I had no idea I was going to melt into a blubbering puddle at dinner tonight. She asked if I wanted to have a few drinks during dinner, and although I’m still half asleep from my all nighter the night before (more about that later), I couldn’t refuse. She held up her shot glass to propose a toast, and it was at that point that I made peace with myself. I’m going to cry. I couldn’t help it, and I never have been able to. She cheered to peace, health, and to my parents. She wished me happiness, and that I marry a great man and have lots of children (three minimum, apparently). 

Ugh, I just wrote four paragraphs of four-shots-of-homemade-Georgian-vodka-drunken nonsense that I have to go edit later (it’s only 6:22 pm!), but I kind of want to keep it as it is. More authentic this way... Yes? Yes! 

Anyways, now that Lowell Libby is 110% regretting putting my blog up on the Upper School website (how far have I come from your essay writing class, Lowell?), I’ll fill you in on the last few days. 

In sum, these past few days have been a slow blur of anticipation. I absolutely do not understand that I’m going home, and I have an even a harder time believing that four and a half months have passed - no, scratch that, VANISHED. I’m convinced that it’s the weather that is making it so hard to believe the passing of time; for the most part, spring and summer just started a few weeks ago (ok, maybe a little longer than that). The Russia that I am living in now could quite possibly be a completely different planet from the one I arrived in; one that was dark until 10:30 am and became dark again at 4 pm. Now, the sun doesn’t really set, and it’s at least 80 degrees out and gorgeous. I’ve packed my Bean boots and parka away in my suitcase for good, and I’ve been sporting my tank top and shorts go-to look. I’m not sure that it’s all really hit me yet that I’ll be leaving Russia and this cozy little nest of a life I’ve built for myself here over the past four and a half months, but if it ever did, if only slightly, it hit me a little at approximately 3:30 am last night after we watched Palace Bridge raise, as I shouted my way across Palace Square about how fast time has gone by and how much I’m going to miss all these people and friends, who, for all intents and purposes, have been my world for these past four and a half months. 

In other news, Andrea and I met up on Tuesday, and I took her to the Decabristov Cafe by St. Isaac’s. We chatted for an hour (in English), and it was so nice. To be more specific, talking with Andrea overall feels like my soul is getting a hug. She’s the best! 

But anyways, last night!

Last night was so much fun. I feel so lame (for ALL of us) that we hadn’t gone out like that before, but I’m glad we stayed out all night to see the bridges go up and engage in a night of complete hooliganky. 

My night began when I left home around 6:30 to see Will Watkins at his host parent’s apartment in Primorskaya. Will is back from the hospital, and I figured that if I didn’t see him then, that I probably would never get to say goodbye to him (he’s not going to be able to make it back to the group flight with us). Clarissa and I both stayed with him for half an hour before we headed to Adam’s dorm apartment/suite. Almost everyone hung out there from 9 to 11, when we were technically supposed to leave. 

Earlier that day I went to the Nabokov museum (finally! Lots of dead butterflies) and the inside of the Cathedral of Our Lady Kazan, and on top of all the treadmill running and my crappy shoes, my legs were just not having it. I’ve been wearing my $15 sneaks that have zero support, so I was really dragging before the end of the afternoon. Luckily, alcohol exists. I felt less pain in my legs for the rest of the night (until I sobered up, of course), so I was able to trek, skip and run throughout Petersburg for the whole night and not feel my knees protest. 

After Adams, we walked all the way to Nevsky Prospekt and onto Doomskaya (the place we were told not to go at the beginning of the semester). We got a drink in one bar quickly before we moved onto another. The bars/clubs we went to were dark with music so loud that threatened your hearing; exactly what you’d expect/want out of a to-be crazy night. After the second bar (which was characterized by telling Will Bliss how much I love/am going to miss him), we split up. I went with a group to the Radio Baby club (where we watched Game of Thrones on Monday), but we were delayed by a fight that broke out on the bridge we needed to cross. Militsia quickly found the fight and broke it up, but we decided to take the long way to Radio Baby and avoid the police by all means, as we were in a group of chattering, inebriated 21 year old Americans, who, somewhat funnily (is that a word?) somewhat stupidly, felt all the more inclined to speak (shout) Russian at/with random strangers. 

When we finally got to Radio baby, there were a bunch of people there, but there wasn’t a whole lot dancing going on yet, and the club still had plenty of space. I bought an Amstel, and after the encouragement of a few friends, got up on the elevated stage/dance floor. I put my beer on the top of the piano and, like all the dances in the atrium throughout high school, proceeded to join the dance circle that had formed between all my friends who, at that point, I had never seen get down and silly in such a manner. 

In short, the next few hours were top notch wonderful. I’ve been suppressing some serious dancing hibbie jibbies over the past few months, and it became obvious once we started dancing that the rest of us were too. We danced like the energetic young adults that we are for a while before Will Bliss, love this kid, starting grabbing random Russians who were watching us go crazy and bringing them into our dance circle. Before we knew it, we had Will Bliss and these other Russian guys breaking it down right in front of us. I hate to sound all... whatever, but we (mainly Will Bliss) totally started the party. Not before long most everyone was trying to get in on our circle, and we just had the best time. 

Around 2:35 am Sean, Hunter, Jackie and I left Radio Baby momentarily to go watch the bridges go up. We walked to Palace Bridge and sat amongst other fellow viewers and flame thrower entertainers on a sandy part of the embankment as we watched the last cars and people walk across the bridge that was, to my surprise, raise rather quickly, in my opinion. I mean, I’ve seen the South Portland bridge raised, so I wasn’t expecting anything special, but it was nevertheless still pretty cool to watch the neon lights of the bridge and the lamp posts fold upwards in a matter of minutes. 

Of course, watching the bridges go up meant that I would not be able to get back home onto Vasilievsky island until the bridges came back down again and the metro opened at 5:30 am (a major reason why we hadn't gone out late earlier in the semester). When we had finished taking pictures and looking at the bridge, we decided to head back to Radio Baby to meet up with the others. The walk back to the club was infinitely longer than the walk it took to get to the bridges. When we finally got back, Will was still dropping it low in that same circle where we left everybody when we left. We danced for a little bit longer before we all realized how tired and hungry we were. We then left Radio Baby and headed to McDonalds. On our way to McDonalds, the sunlight became noticeably stronger from the time that we left Radio Baby and found ourselves on Nevsky Prospekt around 4 am. Actually, it looked like it was 9 am from what you could tell of the sky. Sadly, this 24 hour McDonalds happened to be closed from 4-5 am, during the time that we got there, of course, so we went to a nearby Subway instead (yes, Russia has сабвей). The only reason I have not gone to subway during my time abroad is because of how much talking is involved when you order a sandwich. Well, I guess nothing like drunken munchies will make you overcome such a fear, because I had no problem telling this employee that I wanted literally ВСЁ on my sandwich. The Subway was delicious and it totally hit the spot. From what I remember, it didn’t taste that much different than any Subway I’ve had in the states. Needless to say, however, that 15 cm sandwich didn’t satisfy me (what does?!). 

Around 4:45 am we left Subway and headed in the general direction of the metro. Dylan, Hunter and I stopped into City Grill for a quick burger before we joined up with the rest of the crew waiting for the metro to open (no shame). At this point, my body was aching all over. I got off at Vasilieostrovskaya (little did I know it would be my last metro ride) and walked the 10 minutes back to the apartment under clear, sunny skies around 6 am. When I opened the door home, my host mom heard me and came out of her room to ask me when I wanted breakfast. We both laughed at first as I stood in the foyer clearly in the same clothes from last night. I responded that I won’t be needing breakfast for a while; I’m going to sleep all day. 

All day turned out to be only until 11:30 am, but I didn’t get out of bed until 1. And so my last day in Russia was spent sleeping in, packing, buying Nina Vasilievna flowers, adding money to my Megafon cell phone so it doesn’t have a negative balance, and saying goodbye to Adam. It was also spent finishing Nicholas and Alexandra, and ahh, I HATE finishing this book. There is no rhyme or reason as to why, but I can’t help but feel that, no matter how many times I’ve read this book cover to cover, that the fate of the Romanovs might change by the time I reach the end - that they won’t all be shot at the end and that somehow, any one of the groups that tried to organize a rescue attempt would get their shit together in time. Hah, I know, it’s silly, but Robert K. Massie takes your through such beautifully told stories of the lives of all the main characters, from their births until their deaths, so much that it’s easy to forget that amidst this great story the ending is always so awful, and alas, the past never changes. It’s always a bit of a shock to read the 517th page when you find out that all the people you’ve followed for the past 516 pages have been shot dead in a basement in Ekaterinburg. It’s like, wait WHAT?! That’s not what’s supposed to happen to the good guys! Kind of like how you react to a really good movie with a tragic ending, or, oh jesus, a Game of Thrones episode. And that’s exactly what this book is: an incredible story brought to life by an equally amazing story teller, who managed to find all the right details and quotes from diary entries and letters sent a hundred of years ago. In my first entry to this blog I wrote about Eat, Pray, Love and Nicholas and Alexandra, and as you can tell, my feelings towards the latter (or the former for that regard) have not changed. If any of what I’ve written over the past four and a half months has sparked even the slightest interest in anything related to Russia, read this book.

Or not. Your choice. 

But I digress. By this time tomorrow I should be in Boston exiting my plane or getting my luggage. At this point, I simply wish I could fast forward these next 24 hours. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to everyone, but I would never consider avoiding the overly drawn out, “I’m going to miss you!” *sob “Let’s stay in touch!” *hug-awfulness that is saying goodbye to people you love. I’m one for closure. 

I will want to write one last blog post after I get home to close everything up, but until then, please wish me a safe flight home. I hate flying.