What a weird past few days it’s been. I’ve been undeniably gloomy, and as if the weather heard me brooding, it started to snow again yesterday for the first time in weeks. Before that, it had been sunny and bright for days in a row, and I was truly convinced that spring had arrived. The snow isn’t that heavy though; it’s more wet and gross than anything, but thankfully ice has not reformed on the Neva, and it doesn’t seem like this will last long.
My patience is dwindling with my Nabokov and Cold War classes. I was so into them at the beginning, but now I dread going to them. I’m the only American in my Nabokov class, which is really nice, but I talk a lot in that class because nobody else does, and I worry that I annoy my classmates. My professor, who I still believe is really smart, tries not to show his disorganization but fails miserably. And if he’s not unorganized, and that what he tells us to do in class are actually what he has been planning in the days leading up to our class, then I seriously question his teaching techniques. I’m learning a lot about Nabokov, but I also thinking I’m learning a lot of really pointless nonsense. On the bright side, it doesn’t seem like my professor cares too much about assignments (knock on wood, all of you!). We had a presentation a few weeks ago, and when asked about the midterm last week my professor thought for a second and then replied that our projects would suffice. I was relieved, but I’m also uneasy. What happens when we actually have to write a paper about Ada or Ardor and we haven’t really discussed much about the plot? The characters? Oh I’m going to grow white hair just thinking about any paper that might be looming in the horizon...
And then, sigh, there is my Cold War class, which is just a straight up shit show every Wednesday from 4:40 - 8 pm. The class is team taught by a Smolny professor and a retired American professor who comes to class every week via Skype, and that would be cool if technology wasn’t such an issue. To be fair, my academic advisor warned me about everything I’m complaining about now. I’m just bummed because the material is something I really want to learn about and our professors’ lecture styles are kind of all over the place. We don’t have any discussions, and there’s zero incentive to do the readings. I’ll stop because I know I sound spoiled. I’ve been so used to classes taught at such a high caliber in both high school and at Conn, and I guess I have high expectations.
I think, as I’m realizing this about my classes, that I am also slowly becoming aware of my reality here in Russia. In other words, I think I’m emerging from the honey moon phase, and it’s only been about two months (or should I be happy that it’s taken me this long?). Don’t get me wrong, I still love this place and I don’t want to come home, but I think, for the first time since I’ve arrived here, that I sincerely missed home (or possibly just the states) yesterday. To be fair, I spent the whole day in bed fighting the nausea I induced on myself the night before. My host parents were both out of the house for the whole day, thank god, and I realized that I didn’t speak a word until past 8 pm when I saw my host mom in the hall. I’m just not the kind of person that should be left without social interactions for that long (I sound like my wonderful, needy 13 year old Maltese), and it certainly has its effects on me.
Getting back to my ending honey moon phase, I think I’m a little palaced and/or museumed out. I love going to museums and palaces and I plan on continuing to knock off items on my to-do list while I’m here, but I’m just having a hard time absorbing it all. I started to recognize that I wasn’t being as wowed by everything as I normally am earlier this week, and as a result, I’ve been trying to keep myself in check. I’ve still been going to the gym almost everyday, and I’ve noticed that that little place has become a nice, safe-zone in a way for me. I really enjoy unwinding there. The men there still remain scary, but I’ve begun to develop a fuck-it-all attitude about being intimidated and I walk around the place as if I genuinely belong there now. In any case, all the guys there have been nothing but patient and nice with me, and it’s somewhere I know I can go and do my own thing without having to worry about speaking Russian that much or about anybody else for that matter.
Knowing that a trip to the gym would help, I went straight to Атлет after my class got out on Friday, and for some strange reason the place was deserted. There was me, two other girls, and what looked like a father son pair there for a while, but I was the last one to leave. As spooky as it was, I was happy to have the place to myself. I could trip and stumble through the machines I had always wanted to try but had been too afraid to do in front of everybody, and when I finished and made my way to the changing room, I stopped in front of the punching bag, which is usually in a crowded area. It only took me a few seconds before I realized that hitting something would probably make me feel a lot better. Nobody else was around, so therefore there would be nobody else to watch my pathetic girl punches. Without further ado, I scrolled down to “Immigrant Song” on my iPod and I started to punch and kick the punching bag. In all honesty, it was probably the best thing I could have done all day, all week even, to blow off some steam (who AM I? A 17 year old teenage boy??). I completely let loose and hit that thing until my knuckles started to bleed (it only took a measly 10 minutes). It didn’t matter though; I felt AWESOME. I left the gym promising myself that I would have to do that more often, empty gym or not, and that I should look for a beginner kick boxing class when I get home.
After I got home and showered, I decided to go for a walk. I took my camera, packed my documents and my wallet, and I set off for the Winter Palace. I walked along the embankment on Vasilievsky, and passed by a young woman reading on the stairs leading down to the Neva. I took a lot of experimental-like pictures, and I was glad that I was alone to do it so I could take all the time that I needed without feeling any pressure to hurry up. I walked along bridges, and when I made it to Palace Square, I strolled along the cobble stones at a peaceful pace. I was finally able to be there, completely by myself, to soak up the moment, and I, as cheesy as it sounds, took the time to close my eyes a few times, only to catch someone giving me a weird look when I opened them (I’m sorry I appreciate this place more than you will ever imagine, Sir. Keep moving). I left Palace Square and walked through a park filled with statues and busts of Russian authors. It was sunny then, and the sun shone through the branches and trees in a really pretty way. I came out of the part directly behind the Bronze Horseman, and I continued along the English Embankment back home. The wind was SO strong on Friday I think it took me an extra few minutes to make it home, for there were a few times when I thought I was actually going to get blown over into the river.
That night I went out with friends and had too much fun. Saturday was spent in bed as a result, and my Sunday has somehow already disappeared. We had an excursion to the Siege of Leningrad museum today, and I promise to write about it later. I am drained right now after recording all my petty thoughts above. So, I guess that’s my latest update. As you can tell, I haven’t been up to much. Hopefully I will have something more exciting to write about next time!
No comments:
Post a Comment