(From yesterday).
I cannot even begin to handle all that’s going on in Westeros right now. George R. R. Martin, the creator of Game of Thrones, and the series director have managed to, in one episode, oust two of my favorite characters on the show. Thank goodness Jorah is still alive for now, but he’s been banished out of Khaleesi’s kingdom, and who knows when the next time he’ll show up will be. And my poor Prince Oberyn. Oh Oberyn! You were SO COOL. So Spanish. So sexy. So liberal. And now your head is smashed to mushy pieces on the ground of the death-by-combat arena...
Every monday at 9 pm at a popular ex-pats night club called Radio Baby they show the newest Game of Thrones episode, and we’ve finally decided to go and watch it together. I wanted to watch the episode this afternoon ahead of time to make sure that I could hear all the dialogue and see all the action from the quiet comfort of the Smolny couches, but I’m still going to relive it all again, despite the trauma it brought on me. This time, I plan on being thoroughly intoxicated (for the sake of my nerves and extremely fragile heart, people).
Speaking of death, today, under cold drizzle and gloomy rain clouds, Beryl and I went to the Alexander Nevsky Monastery to walk through the cemeteries there. The cemetery had two main sections: the first contains the graves of Dostoevsky, Tchaikovsky, Glinka and a whole lot of other famous composers, singers, poets, painters, etc... What struck me first about the graves that stood amongst the winding paths that were crossed occasionally by the stray cats that live there were how charismatic the graves were. It was unusual to see a typical tombstone. There were busts, statues, mosaics and unique engravings everywhere. Statues’ faces had intense expressions, and there were even a few quotes on some graves. Beryl and I strolled through the graves and slowly sounded out the names of those we passed, most of whom I sadly did not recognize.
The second half of the cemetery was a lot more crowded with graves, and it reminded me a lot of the Cemetière Pierre Lachaise in Paris, where Chopin and Jim Morrsion are buried. The above-ground tombs were close to each other, but most of them had their own special flair. In this section Beryl and I found Sergei Witte, who was the first Prime Minister of Russia under Nicholas II (which is super creepy and coincidental because I just read the part in Nicholas and Alexandra last night when, in a letter to his wife, Nicholas announced that he had just read about Witte’s death in the newspaper), Pushkin’s widow, Charles Rossi (he designed a lot of the architecture throughout Petersburg) and many others I have never heard of before. 
On the way out, we found a baby kitten drinking water from a tubberwear container around the graves. Beryl, I guess, is a lot more into cats than I thought, because she went after that cat, and pursued it for a few minutes. She even grabbed it’s tail and as she held onto the tail before the cat began to hiss, she pleadingly, but evermore politely explained, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that; I shouldn’t have grabbed your tail.” I laughed so hard. I wish you all knew Beryl, because your lives would all be the better for it. She is perhaps the funniest person I have ever met, and I am easily entertained by people who lack any sense of humor. If, when you see me when I come home, you notice that I’ve picked up a few new mannerisms, or that I randomly change the infliction or pitch of my voice, or that I sing the last parts of my sentences, you can thank Beryl for that. Man, I wish you could meet everyone here. I like to think that all my blog posts would make a lot more sense if that were possible. 
After the cemeteries we took a peek inside the church in the monastery, but didn’t linger. We both took the 27 bus back to the city center, and I headed to Smolny to catch up on emails, Facebook, and, sigh, Game of Thrones.
Not having internet, although refreshing, sucks when it comes to coordinating things. I only got an email from my Russian professor and Slavic Studies advisor Andrea Lanoux around 4 pm about meeting up after dinner today, but I never heard back from her before I left at half past six. Andrea is in Petersburg for the week to attend a conference on Russian children’s literature, and I literally could not be more excited about it. I rave about Andrea every time I get the chance, and if you knew her, you would too. I first met Andrea freshman year, a year before I started taking Russian, for she taught my freshman year seminar “Russia After Communism.” Looking back, I would say that Andrea is at least 50% of the reason why I decided to take Russia (Petko would be the other half, haha). I’m exaggerating, but only slightly. Andrea, just to confess the inner workings of my soul (haven’t I been doing that for the past four months?), is everything I hope to be and more. She is so intelligent, friendly, warm and genuine. I’ve never been in the presence of an adult who has been interested in my opinions and who has believed in me more (with the exception of my parents, and that’s saying a lot because I have been incredibly fortunate to have been surrounded by a lot of amazing people in that regard) than Andrea. When you make a point in class, or even if you are talking with her informally, you can tell by the way she looks at you that not only is she paying attention to every word you say, but that she is also sincerely trying to learn from your point before she comments on it or politely proves it wrong. Andrea is not the type of professor who would ever dismiss a student’s thoughts because she thinks she is better than them. She totally has the right to think all that, but she’s so incredibly humble, and she knows that she’s not perfect. She understands that she, although quite accomplished, can always improve and can always learn from others, and for that reason in particular I have an immense amount of respect for her. She has done wonders for the Slavics department at Conn, and she also manages to find time to become involved in the administrative areas of our college in order to actually make the institution a better place. Andrea wrote my recommendation for the Middlebury summer language intensive program, and then helped me with my application to UC Berkeley’s Summer Research Opportunity Program when I couldn’t go to Middlebury. She got me into Berkeley, she set me up for Harvard, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that wherever my future career leads can be traced back to her help and support.
I could quite possibly be delusional and making this last part up, but I firmly believe that when Andrea and I chat, that there is some sort of crazy vibe between us. Because Andrea is so awesome, I’m sure she has this affect on a lot of people, but when we talk, I practically forget that she’s my professor and advisor. I feel like I’m talking to someone who gets me and with whom I’ve been friends all my life, but one that is my mother’s age and who can give me all this wonderful advice. Waynflete did a great job of making me feel that comfortable with teachers and adult figures (probably a little too comfortable for my own good), and I remember thinking as a freshman of how much Andrea reminded me of a Waynflete teacher. In the classroom, Andrea is a little bit crazy, but in a good way. She’s so enthusiastic, and she sometimes shrieks because she’s so happy or surprised, but students love her for it. You can tell that she is beyond passionate about what she studies, and that she’s damn good at it. She is married with three kids, and she somehow finds time to be a powerful female in academia.
And I guess that is my ode to Andrea Lanoux. Needless to say, I can’t wait to catch up with her.
But the countdown continues! I leave in five days! I’M SO EXCITED!!
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