High-heeled boots are not a good idea...

So. Another Moscow weekend has come and gone, along with some very important lessons.

Yesterday, I went with Agata (my Polish friend), Elena, her Croatian friend, and Jan, the really cute Czech boy, to an ice sculpture garden on the other side of the river. To get there, we walked through Sparrow Hills. This area is on the north side of the university. During weekend days, souvenier hawkers abound, and there are a ton of little shops selling food and the like (including, inexplicably, 2-3 kroshka kartoshkas, these little fast-food places that specialize in putting yummy-looking things on potatoes). But the area is mostly where people do snow sports... skiing and sledding, to my knowledge. So, we walked through there... it was largely scenic. We considered coming time in the near future to go sledding... apparently, you wrap your pillow in plastic and use that! lol.

Side note: I skipped my first class yesterday. I wasn't sick or hungover or anything, but there was a pounding from the room above mine until 4am, so I couldn't sleep. Plus, my Russian professor had moved class an hour earlier, and I was kind of protesting getting up at 8am on a Saturday to walk to class in the snow. It seemed unreasonable.

So anyway, we walked across the river, past the sports stadium (I think this is where the 1980 Olympics were... it is now a hotel and stadium) to a little ice park. It cost 300p to get in, but was pretty cool. I have a few pictures... It was essentially 3 loops, and I wish we had walked back around so I could have taken more pictures. Some of the figures were Ice Age-themed (?) including two plushie squirrels, encased in ice, facing in, to a giant ice acorn. The rest were dragons. One looked like Cthulhu, with dyed-red eyes, but as we did not walk back around (I hadn't realized there was a separate exit) I didn;t get a picture. Another part had sea creatures and aquarium scenes in clear ice, so they looked like still fish tanks.

We stopped and drank some tea in the little cafe there, and watched Duck Tales and Ratatouille in Russia. I still cannot get over how badly-dubbed things are. Apparently, some of the people here have issues with roaches and mice. None of us had bugs, but Jan had a mouse come in under his door one day...

So, we walked to the nearest metro (two away from universitet). We had to walk under a bridge, where a little sketchy-looking flea market was getting taken down. So, from there we went to Fruzenskaya, which features a 24-HOUR MY-MY!!! (Moo-moo in English). I don't know if I had mentioned My-My before, but I am pretty obsessed with the place. It is Russian fast-food. You grab a tray, go down the buffet, and tell them what you want. It is pretty inexpensive, and the best food I've had in Moscow...

Jan did tell me you aren't allowed to take pictures of the metro. Which is good to know before I enacted my "Walking photo tour of Moscow's metros" I wanted to try on a boring off-day.

So, I got home just in time to meet the other girls and Spencer to go to a Tchaikovsky concert we were given tickets to. As we were going out from there, I put on cute high-heeled boots, in case we went to a place with face control. Bad idea. The directions Marina sent us were terrible. She had us get off near Red Square, then wander around to Ohotny Ryad (the next metro stop! WTF?). Then, it turns out we had to get on a different metro line, and it was right by the stop... something nobody told us.

From there, we walked to the Starlite diner to meet everyone... it was so late, they weren't going to let us in. I know, crummy American diner... wasn't my idea. I had some chili cheese fries (which I've been craving), Russian champagne (85p a glass) and the most amazing, delicious, overpriced monstrosity known to man... a peanut butter nutella waffle ice cream sandwich. Yes, that just happened.

From there, we went to an American-themed bar on the corner. I finally had a white Russian, and we just chilled for awhile. We were going to go to Papa's Place, the cheap Monday night spot, but decided instead to go Club Propaganda. Grisha got talked into taking a cab, so we took a cab for 100p apiece... still not bad. As soon as we got to the club (it was 1130, so it wasn't a club yet... it changes over at 12) almost everyone decided to leave to drink in the dorms. Grisha, Will, Dan, and I soldiered on, claiming half the fun was going out. Jeff soon joined us.

Propaganda is one of Moscow's most famous clubs. It kind of looks like a warehouse, and has very few drink options, but the drinks are cheap and there is no cover. Most of our friend who have been here a while aren't very fond of Propaganda, believing it to be a foreigner's club. I don't know how true that is... The clientele seems to be mostly older women and hipsters.

One of the boys tried to hit on a much older woman (a gynecologist fluent in 5 languages) and her receptionist (speaks only Russian). The recpetionist, Sveta, took a liking to me, said I spoke good Russian (huh?), dragged me on the dance floor constantly, and grabbed my hand to escort her to the ladies' room. SOOOO much energy. The music was odd techno, which took a bit of getting used to, but was really fun. Eventually, the boys kind of pawned Sveta off on Grisha, as they know almost no Russian. Apparently, either Sveta or the doctor, Inya, had a boyfriend. I thought he was hitting on me (kept plying me with drinks every time I tried to sober up), but he was apparently being generous. He approached Grisha about hitting on his girlfriend, but they talked all night and ended up best friends. He encouraged Grisha to go into office, and called him "the next Lenin," also pledging to be his follower. Everyone involved was a little concerned.

At one point in time, Dan decided to leave to find a brothel. Luckily for EVERYONE, he wound up at a diner instead.

Lacking the encouragement of a Red Devil, I ended up really tired at around 3am. But we waited to leave until 5:30, when the metros opened. And then, of course, Grisha was talked into getting a taxi.

We got dropped of in g so Will could get home safely, but he ended up walking to v with us to get snacks. We all three sat in the basement, they with their Sharma (microwaved kebab) and me with my pereshok. Finally, we made it to our rooms about a quarter to 7.

I can already feel Russian changing me as a person. No just the alcoholic that I am likely becoming, either. So many things back home seem so trite. And as much as I miss fountain Coke, I more or less freaked out when everyone was out of cabbage pereshok for 5 days, and I had to settle for mystery meat. So there's that...

Stayed tuned next time for my "Russian Girls: a Case Study."

Also, I made supper tonight that more or less is actually what it was supposed to be... pasta in veggie sauce with cheese. Really good, but I don't know if I can deal with that much veggie.

It was also brought to my attention that the American boys in this trip a. seem to think I am interested in relationships, and b. think I get offended. One apologized for saying they didn't like to cook, and would rather a woman do it. Ha. And what about my demeanor makes people think I want anything serious while in Russia? gaaaaa

Oh, and seeing how I was walking and dancing in those boots for 14 hours straight... not a good idea. Unless you KNOW you are going somewhere with face control, wear good shoes.

"This 'love' intrigues me. Teach me to fake it. "-Dr. Zoidberg

So. One of the many things that ceases to amaze me are American cultural influences I find over here. It is SO much bigger and more amusing than just McDonaldization (although, I haven't eaten a McDonald's hamburger in the US since I was six and started caring what I put in my mouth, but I had one yesterday and... AMAZING). For example, since I've been here, I have heard:

a. Chuck Norris Jokes
b. Blonde Jokes
c. How Many.... Does it Take to Screw in a Lightbulb... jokes
d. "Epic Fail"
and, what has to be my favorite:
e. Sitting at a bar with two Russian men making lobster claws of our hands and mouth tentacles and quoting Zoidberg from Futurama

Well, some of the American boys went out the night before last and had too much fun, i.e. Spent like $15,000 p between them, came home at 6am, and missed their classes. As a result, nobody wanted to go out last night. Which sucked, because I haven't class until 2:30 today, and I have class at 10am on Saturday (so no going out tonight). So, I got home from Ashan and took a nap. I woke up to a call from Nikita, asking if we could meet up. So, I got dressed and went to meet him in the cafe. He always seems so concerned that he is keeping me from something important... as if I actually have anything important to do. So, we chatted over tea, and then retired to his room for awhile. He showed me pictures of his camping in the Crimea and of St. Petersburg, and and I showed him pictures of the moors of England. Luckily, he is a Sherlock Holmes fan, and I was able to tie in the Hound of the Baskervilles story.

Camping in Russia is fucking hardcore. Essentially they go out in the woods, in big scary mountains, with no food or water. Hence every tenth picture was a picture of cute wildlife ("aww... frog" "aww... lizard" "aww... hedgehog") and his response would be "yes, very tasty."

So, then we called Chris, and went to a bar in the mall near Ashan. It was pricey, but the beer was supposedly good. Well, I forced myself to drink the beer. Ugh. I try, and I try, but I simply cannot stomach beer. Nikita asked Chris about American politics, as in, why we have a two party system. After about 8 minutes of Chris giving a very enlightened and detailed explanation, with Nikita sitting there glassy-eyed, probably understanding every third word, I tried to explain it in two sentences. Chris was upset, as he has written papers on the subject. But when you start bringing numbers into bar conversations... it is time to give up and get back to talking about hedgehogs.

On that subject... Nikita has eaten some odd things. Namely, a lynx they caught in Siberia fighting their dogs. And a dog in a Korean restaurant in Siberia. Apparently it is a delicacy there
: (

So, after that, we went to two bars by our facultet. Unfortunately, they were both closed. So, we went to the cafe, ate business lunch, and went back to Nikita's room to drink and watch horribly-dubbed Futurama.

Advice from a Polish Grandmother

So, for whose of you who don't religiously read my facebook, I have a Polish grandmother. I don't know too very much about her life, although I plan on sitting down with a stiff drink over this coming summer and asking her to tell me about it. I do know that she was born and raised in Poland, in the Eastern part that became Russian after the war. I also know that she was sent to a Siberian gulag as a child, saw her parents shot in front of her, and lived for two years in Moscow before being smuggled to South America. She spent two years in Mexico waiting for permission to come to the United States, and finally made her way to Chicago.

*side note: apparently there were a lot of Polish refugees who never got asylum, and thus there remains a Polish community in the Yucatan. hmm.

So, she has been *somewhat* supportive about me coming here. Needless to say, there is not lost love between her and the Russians. Here are some of the gems of conversations I've had with her over the past year:

"So, you are going to Russia? Yeah... my parents are buried there. That is where they killed them. And you know cousin Lester? He had a little brother who is buried there. He couldn't have been more than... 1 or 2 years old when they killed him"

"How are you eating? Is the food ok? Yeah, when I lived in Moscow, we were eating the dogs and the cats..."

She tells my mother:
"Make sure she gets tested when she gets back. She needs to stay away from the mean Russian boys."

"Make sure you don't go anywhere alone. They kidnap the pretty women, and sell them to Turkey for sex slavery. They would kidnap the children from the work camps when I was growing up. The parents would go off to work, and come back, and their babies would be gone. So they told us to never stray far from camp. Nobody believes me, but I know there are Polish children who were raised in Russia, not knowing what happened, not even knowing their last names..."

I'm sure there are more gems, but I just have to remember them.

In other news, went out to a Slovak restaurant with a bunch of Eastern Europeans. It was pretty good, but I only ordered soup because I couldn't read the menu. When everyone got their food, I realized all the possibilities... This super-cute Czech guy had pirogi! We should be going out again soon! Agata said that we should go somewhere together for Maslenitsa, which is next week! They started off speaking almost exclusively in Russian, and I only understood bits and pieces, but they finally started asking me questions in English. Primarily, they wanted to find out what I thought of Russian boys and the like.

Lies Denner Told Me

More Moscow adventures...

My adventure when I returned home from the bar is that my door wouldn't open. I played with the lock for 15 minutes, and the key turned, and the lock would turn, but not enough to open the door. I called Grisha, who explained to the police (who guard the entrances to the hallways), who explained to the dejournaya. She walked me back to my room, and I immediately knew it would open with her breathing over my neck. It did.

I get in my room, and my bedroom light blew out. Yes, my brand new one. And so did my vanya light. Leaving me with NO light.

So, I force myself up at 1ish to go on a walking tour with one of the SRAS directors. It was incredibly amazing, if obnoxiously cold. First we talked about 45 minutes about Russian politics which, I mean... it was fucking cold. The most interesting part about this was one Russian politician who is essentially a Stalin-like figure... a strongman. A few years ago, during a televised debate, his opponent pressed him on an issue, and refused to step down. Finally, he got so annoyed he told his bodyguard to take the opponent outside to kill him. The bodyguard then chased the man around the studio, as the cameras were rolling and the producers stood there dumbfounded.

We walked to one particular bridge, named after the former mayor of Moscow (the one that was kicked out for corruption.) This featured the "bench of reconciliation," a bench with two rings above it (wedding rings), and is curved in a U, so that a couple on it would slip to the center and snuggle. On the bridge, there are metal trees covered in locks. Couple in love write their names on the locks, then throw their keys in the water.

We stopped at a park and looked at one of the neatest statues I've ever seen. On it, blindfolded children play as the the "sins of capitalism" look down upon them hungrily. It is truly one of the most amazing statues I've ever seen. There is drug addiction (a skinny man with a giant needle), prostitution (a melting frog), bad science, child labor (a fat man with a tiny factory, featuring the tiny handprints of those trying to get out), war (a robot-looking thing in a gas mask, holding a bomb with Mickey Mouse's head), amongst other sins.
Here is a link: http://englishrussia.com/index.php/2009/03/17/the-sins-monument/

By then, we were more or less frozen, and stopped at a yummy Uzbeki place for... ok, I can't remember what it is called. Essentially meat-stuffed baked/fried eggy break. Amazing,

Next to Red Square. There, we discussed the corruption that plagues Russia. It is estimated that corruption and inefficiently raise the prices of everything here 30-100%. Land is very difficult/unprofitable to develop, so there is little restaurant space, so restaurants pretty much can name their prices. Buildings begin being built and then stand idle for years, sometimes because the owners make too much money on using the space for illegally large ads. Food from the south is expensive because the roads are barely protected, and the roads from the south are plagued by FUCKING PIRATES. Crazy shit, man.

We took a bunch of pictures of St. Basil's and the like. We decided to walk through ГУМ as opposed to walking through Red Square. OMG I AM IN LOVE. Denner described it as an upscale flea market, not a nice Western-style mall which, while a little more expensive than its American counterparts, has giant fake cherry blossoms and pretty fountains and artificial flowers at every crosswalks. We watched a bride take pictures and... God, I want wedding pictures there. A-f*ing-mazing.

Finally, we walked by the Bolshoi. We also discussed Russian culture here. While many Russians view Americans as individualistic, and only caring about themselves, we discussed Russian clan systems... Essentially, you care about your friends and your family. Russians don't usually give to charity, adopt orphans, and can even bribe their way out of vehicular manslaughter. Da.

At home, I went to borrow a lightbuld from one of the girls. On my way back to my room, I ran into a few Russians, Nikita and Sonya. Nikita asked me if we could get together, because he is working on his English for the TOEFL, to study in Colorodo next year for graduate school. We made plans to meet in the cafe.

In my room... the fucking lightbulb wouldn't work. So, I went to the cafe to finish my homework before meeting the Russians.

Once they got there, we drank tea and chatted about America for awhile... the school systems and how alcohol and cigarettes are so much more expensive (they don't believe me). For the second time on my trip, I had to explain, in very great detail, how certain words, while similar to their Russian counterparts, are NOT OK. Namely, those pertaining to race. Seriously, who the fuck taught the Russian youths the "n word?" I asked Nikita what he thought of Jews, as I knew Russians are pretty anti-Semitic. Turns out, he is Jewish, and was incredibly excited that I had good Russian friends back home.

Nikita paid for our drinks and Sonya's supper without me even noticing. Finally, one of THOSE Russians. Sonya went home, and I went to Nikita's room because, hey... no lights in mine. He showed me his pictures of Talinn while plying me with Estonia coffee liquor, and I showed him pictures of Rome and corrected his English.

I really couldn't tell if he was coming on to me or not. Usually when men pour you giant glasses of alcohol when you tell them no more, and then insist that you HAVE to finish your drink because you are in Russia now, some sort of mild seduction is afoot. But he mentioned his girlfriend twice, so... yeah, pretty confused. Finally, I insisted I go home, as I had to be up at 9 (to do more paperwork! Yay!). He walked me downstairs and talked to the dejournaya to get my lights fixed! Yay! He also challenged me to a cooking competition, but then decided I was too modest about my abilities (because I am a woman and must thus automatically be better than him) and backed down. I don't think my American food would be pleasing to a Russian palate, and I'm not even certain where to get supplies. We don't even have ovens here.

My professor never showed up for class today. This is pretty common in Russia, but is really annoying if you have to wake up, get pretty, put on make-up, blow-dry your hair (so as not to catch cold) and walk twenty minutes to class.

All of the Americans were supposed to go to a particular bar tonight, but, as there is no class Wednesday (for a national holiday) everyone is saving their livers for tomorrow night. Amateurs. Chris and I soldiered on to the one bar one of the boys got toasted at last wee... Papa's place. Essentially, on Wednesday, certain drinks (vodka shots, Long Islands, tequila shots, rum and Pepsi, Whisky and Pepsi) follow a schedule:
7pm: 4 for the price of 1
8pm: 3 for the price of one
9pm: 2 for the price of one
10pm: regular price

And it starts over again at 11. Food is also cheap... Chris and I split a 12" pizze for about $10. Also, this bar has an expat night and ladies night. Can you say favorite place EVER. So, Nikita and one of his friends met us there. We had some fun conversations, like, YET AGAIN explaining why "negra" is not an OK term in America, and how not every girl you are having sex with is your girlfriend, but you don't call such a girl your "fuck buddy" to her face. The "having sex with three or four girlfriends" thing explains Nikita coming on to me. Turns out, there were two American students and a Canadian girl sitting at the table next to us. We put our tables together and exchanged numbers. Nikita's friend invited me skiing on Wednesday... I might go, but I was also inexplicably invited to the Slovak embassy by my Polish friend, so I might do that instead. The boys spent a good deal of time plying me with 4 for 1 whisky Cokes, and Nikita did his "but you HAVE to drink it" schpeal again. Apparently he knows a better, cheaper bar we are hitting later this week.

Well, I have made it home, not dead, without being drunk enough to remotely fall for Nikita's charms. As per the title, there are a list of things Denner told us that are simply not true. I have been around Russian men and still had to pay for my own drinks/food. It is illegal to drink booze on the streets and the metro (but the bribes aren't expensive.) They rotate security in the dorms, and there are camera, making it impossible to bribe the cops. There are many more, but they escape me.

So, before we set out for the bar, I was able to get all of my lights fixed! Yay! Nikita said I was very lucky, as they usually take weeks, but the program supervisor, Marina, spoke to them, and probably got the wheels turning. I'm just a little annoyed because the first guy said I had to buy lightbulbs, but the electricians brought their own, so I now have four lightbulbs. I guess, in case they go out again.

*Something to keep in mind* One of the many things here that will shock you are the conditions of the dorms. Yes, you expect them to be smaller. But my floorboards are coming up, and I had to tape my windows shut to keep from freezing to death in my sleep. And I am in one of the nicest, newest sectors in the main building. Also, if you choose to cook, there is no pilot light, so you have to buy matches. I've cooked once... I bought what I thought was a frozen rice and veggie mixture for a side dish, but it is actually fried rice that you, well, have to fry. I didn't have oil, so I cooked it in broth and had "Surprise! It's soup!" I will soon be eating pasta with eggplant sauce, potato-filled pasta, and broccoli. Or just eat out. Its more expensive, but much quicker and easier. Try doing dishes in a tiny tiny tiny bathroom sink. Also, I finally did laundry... $11 for two loads, washed, dried and folded. Not bad for two weeks of laundry, but I imagine it'll be a bitch to do bedding... the blankies will probably be multiple loads. It's also annoying because they fill up at night, so you often have to leave them for 24 hours, or even bring them back the next day to be dropped off for those 24 hours.

Another one of Denner's lies... that you can get everything in Moscow. Still haven't found Kahlua, and Nikita said White Russians are impossible, because Russian milk (which is powdered then mixed with water) clumps when mixed with vodka. Not cool, dude. They really pull the room together.

If I sober up in six months, there's gonna be a helluva hangover...

Moscow, I have learned tonight, has the ability to kill even the most seasoned American partier. Oh, where to begin. I suppose our story begins like many modern stories (though most authors shall feign to admit it)... with a text message.

I texted the American who was in Mosco last semester, sometime this afternoon, asking innocently if we all could go out tonight. He said yes, and we made plans to go to Propaganda, the big club here that mostly caters to foreigners.

Considering I was out until 3:30 the night before (but I still made it to my 10am Saturday morning class!) I had planned on taking a nap, and not drinking tonight. And then I couldn't fall asleep, so I decided to man the fuck up.

I met Jeff and Chris in their lobby. Chris has had problems getting into his building, as out proposk (passes) expired after only two weeks for some reason. I haven't had too many issues, as sektor B is mostly open. But G is like maximum-security, with cameras everywhere and the like. He decided not to go out, in case he couldn't make it back into the building. So, I went with Jeff to his suitemate's room, where Carmel (a German) and Dan (fratty American) were watching the ManUnited game. I watched with them, we all did a few shots of vodka, and I chugged my little Red Devil in the 15 minutes we had to meet everyone.

Needless to say, I was more or less useless from there on out.

We walked to sektor B, and met up with more people.. Ukrainians, Croatians, French, Irish. While everyone else was getting ready, four of us stole to my room so I could change shoes. Someone pointed out that I had vodka. Within minutes... I had no more vodka.

We finally left. To be honest, I don't remember much of the trip, besides talking with one of the Frenchmen about how I should eat something. I also remember being very, very proud that I had managed to keep up with the boys' walking, something my tiny little legs usually don't allow. Thank goodness for Red Devil.

We finally made it to the bar and... woah. It was four stories tall. At one point in time, I went up to the third story, which had a hallway full of abstract paintings, and a really low desk with a blonde girl in a medical face mask behind it. She did not allow me to go any further. The walls were a blue, and the lights had a strobe-like quality to them without actually being strobe lights.

Inside the bar/club (2nd floors) we took up one of the longer tables. And then, when more people arrived (we had managed to lose the Irish and Croatians) we took over an even bigger table. I split a margherita pizza with someone, but wisely chose to avoid alcohol for awhile. After an hour or so of bullshitting, I went to the dance floor (100p entry) with Piedra.

Piedra is the Peruvian girlfriend of Dima, the Swede I had met yesterday. We hit it off. She is a very sweet little thing, in Russian because her father, a Peruvian Air Force General, is here for three years as an atache. I'm pretty good at aligning myself with the "right people," apparently. After an hour or so, Dima wanted to go home, so she left.

Russians are, largely, horrible dancers. Some of the women are pretty sensual, but others look more or less exactly like they have perfected the art of suffering seizures while staying upright. The men sort of jump around like they have some horrible, painful poison in their veins.

Dan had managed to "make friends" with a little tiny Russian girl, and we all did our best to help him along. Ok, well, "girl" isn't the right term. She is 28 (he is 20) and definitely and old maid by Russian standards.

But I danced. And danced some more. Black Eyed Peas, Michael Jackson, you fucking name it. Two black Frenchmen break danced to such hits as "Time of My Life" and the crowd surrounded them for awhile.

Even Grisha came out, with a girl. I was initially jealous ( HOW DOES HE GET LAID SO EASILY?) but I eventually made friends with the girl. But that is later. For the time being, she looked like she had been crying, and I wondered what he had done or said to her.

In the room with the dance floor, I noticed a man who looked pretty out of place. I was pretty certain he was gay (Fruit Flies are universal). He wore point black shoes and a purple scarf, and was much older than most of the crowd. I started dancing with him. 41 year old Rotarian banker, half German, half American. Danced like a gay guy. Only his mention of his 12 year old daughter and how odd he felt to dance with someone so close to her age made me wonder if he was straight. He bought me a drink, and we made observations about people. Such as Dan...

Dan was wasted. The Rotarian asked me where he was from, and we laughed over how he fulfilled every single American sterotype, trashed fistpumping on the dance floor. Oh, Dan.

Even Grisha joined us on the dance floor for a few minutes, to "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics. The Rotarian quickly identified him as "The Russian" thanks to his style of dancing... just standing there pointing.

Before leaving, I made friends with Grisha's podruga.. I guess they had been at his brothers earlier drinking, and she continued at the bar. As a result, she was pretty drunk. I helped her to the bathroom (I had to sneak her in, as the cleaning ladies said it was closed) and shared my thermos of water with her. She was very concerned that we would take the metro home, as her home is far from the station, and nobody would walk her home. She seemed not too convinced Grisha was taking her. I asked if she wanted to crash at the university, and she explained that Grisha and her were not a couple, as if it was a big secret. As if Grisha has actual relationships.

Four of us took a cab home, including Dan. Still so wasted he couldn't make it into the cab. He talked so loud the cabbie turned his music up loud. Honestly, speeding through Moscow at 6am in the wintertime listening to blaring Indian music (souuuu-pa, souuuu-pa sou-pa) was the trippiest thing ever. Dan fistpumping the entire time didn't help.

I'll tell you of my adventures getting into my dorm later. For now, I need fucking sleep.

This Country Wants Me Dead... and other things to keep in mind

So. It is 3:39 local time, and I am just getting back from Elizabeth's boyfriend's place. I stand corrected about my previous post... I suppose I could say I have a few Russian friends here. But they are all men... mostly nerdy. The WOMEN here are stuck-up.

In reference to the title of this post: Russia does, indeed want me dead. How do I know? Shall I count the ways?

Vodka for $5 a bottle
Red Devil (a yummier alternative to 4Loko, which I SHOULD NOT be drinking at midnight-3am) $1/can
The constant toasting Russians do, and the mild pressure to keep drinking, even if you have class at 10am the next morning.
Lightbulbs that come apart when being changed, as if their only joy in life comes from electrocuting you.
The fact that pedestrian lights go from green to red with only a split second of yellow in between.
How cars here think it is a race with pedestrians to see who gets to the corner first. If it is the car, and you happen to still be in the road... tough fucking luck.
How the university locks the passageway between sectors at like 10pm.

I must tell y'all about what I call the "magical mystical horror-movie-esque underground passageway of death and wonder," or the "magical mystical passageway" for short and less fear. When they close the sectors at night, and you do not feel like braving the cold and possibility of being kidnapped by walking all the way around, you walk thorough the secret passageway. It goes through one of the courtyards (the one to the rear/most used entrance). This is filled with cars, possibly hiding rape0orcs from plain sight. I was not aware of how terrifying this passageway was until I took it this evening, still drunk, but largely alert thanks to "alcoenergy." I started down the stairs in sector Б, and rooted through my purse to find my phone. You know, in case of rape orcs. While standing on the stairs, one of the revolving doors constantly revolved, as if moved by the invisible hand of every crappy B-movie propmaster. Offstage, a light singing could be heard. As it was in Russian, I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I imagine the rough translation was "You won't die in your sleep... Oh, no... You'll die facing them... With terror in your eyes... You'll die standing... Facing Them" or something similar.

I bravely soldiered on, descending two flights of stairs, and pushing past two metal doors with Russian writing (what I can only imagine was the lyrics to the song I heard sung earlier...)

The first courtyard was minimally scary. However, you have to pass under a decrepit... well, underground area to get to the next one. And it is sketchy as all get-out. Broken vents hang from little plastic threads, covered in ice. Various alcoves prove to be the perfect hiding spots to rape-orcs. My high-heeled boots make a conspicuous *crunch crunch crunch*, giving away my position to any who wish to do me harm. More strange Russian writing, along with crude drawings of a Cthulu/octopus love child are scrawled on the walls.

I spend much of my time here wondering how much time Douglas Adams spent in Moscow.

Next you get to the next courtyard. This is slightly scarier, either because you are all scared already from underground death-lab, or because there are dumspsters overflowing with cardboard boxes (AHHHHH! NO RECYCLING?!?!?! Ha, yeah right...) where possible murderers/rapists/kidnappers might be hiding. Also, one of the cars in this area inevitably has an alarm, with a glowing red light that shines at you like the eyes of Satan himself, waiting to devour your very soul.

Just as you reach the door, the very image of safety and warmth, it opens... You give out a terrified yelp, like a startled Chihuahua who may or may not have seen a moth land on a windowsill. A very nice-looking couple emerged, looking at you like you are, indeed, touched. You try to cover your face with you hair, in fear that they might recognize you in daylight as the idiot American afraid of doors. You are unsuccessful.

But hey. You survived!

How many American girls does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Today has seemed like a succession of mildly off-color jokes. After class, Jeff (one of the Americans) and I met up with a few of his friends from last semester.... Dima, who is Swiss, and Victor, a Mexican. Yes. We took a mereshoka (one of those smallish buses/largisg taxis they have here, which Grisha calls "moving tombstones" because of the fatality ratings) to the mall. Jeff wanted to buy shoes and, come on... you always need something from Ashan.

We went to Burger King (Бергер Кинг) for some nibbles, which was fine by me, as I had been craving fried things (namely chicken) and fountain Coke with ice. Somehow or another, the girl accidentally charged me and extra $2 for a fish sandwich I didn't order, but it took them 3X as long to make my chicken as the boys food, so I just gave up and went to eat.

I finally broke down and bought some cooking supplies for my room (a pot, a strainer, and a spoon) as well as some pasta and eggplant sauce to make with it. I also bought 3 cans of red devil, for about $10 total. This country is bound to kill me.

Dima and Victor are hilarious. They remind me of my friends at home... constantly bothering and teasing each other about everything. Dima is a partier, but finally settled down and got a girlfriend recently (a Peruvian), while Victor is apparently quite the ladies' man... Jeff was complaining that every time they all go out he steals all the women.

We had a few interesting conversations about relationships and sex in Moscow. Apparently Propaganda, the mostly foreigner's club, is where Russian women go to find rich foreign men. I ask where foreign women go, and they all laughed... Foreign women never come here to find Russian men. Jeff apparently had a Russian girlfriend last semester, but dating between the foreigners and Russians is pretty uncommon. Unlike in the US and most other places, college in Russia is a time to find someone to settle down with... Russian women are considered past their prime if they don't marry by 25. Which brings me to the observation that Moscow is a horrible place to try to learn Russian... The Russians are... how do I say this is a nice way... a little, teensy bit stuck up. The foreigners at МГУ all stick together, which is why I know more Americans, Germans, and Russians than Americans.

After Jeff and I got back to his place to separate out purchases (I still cannot get used to buying groceries for under $20, including alcohol. But I guess I still go out and spend twice that on food on a daily basis...) we sat and had tea with his German suitemate, Benny. Benny has an Italian girlfriend, which helps to prove the above point. We talked American culture and Europe and such, and then the boys went to play football. I went to the campus store, bought some bleach and a lightbulb I hoped would fit in the light socket in my room. Which brings me to the story I know you are DYING to hear.

This morning, as I woke up to get ready (ok, afternoon... semantics, semantics...) I turned on my light, only to have it blow out on me. This is quite problematic, as my class got out about the time the sun goes down, and changing a light bulb in the dark is not fun. In addition, the lightbulb in the hallway burned out the week I moved in, so I'd have pretty much no light to fix this. Also, I am in the habit of being 5 feet tall...

So, I pull down the sheet over my window (the one that keeps me from freezing to death in my sleep), open the bathroom door, turn the bathroom light on, and get as much light as I can in my room. I step very precariously on the Stalinist-era wooden table in my room, convinced that at any second I am going to fall through to the floor below, dying in a suede skirt and bra in some poor Russian's dormitory. I begin to pull out one of the lightbulbs and... it comes out without the metal base. Fucking Russian industries. I twist my light (which has three bulbs on it) to the next light bulb. Apparently, someone before has made the same mistake I had... no light bulb, but the base for one was stuck in it. The final light still had a light bulb in, but I had issues taking it out. I texted one of the Americans on the trip, who I learned today was an electrician in the Navy... I figured I needed someone taller and more experienced to take the lightbulb bases out. I'd get electrocuted and then my hair would NEVER recover from that perm...

When he took too long to respond, I decided to man the fuck up. I perched precariously on my tiptoes, and ever so gingerly unscrewed the lightbulb. And the base came out with it! Huzzah! So, I then was able to screw my lightbulb in (yay! correct lightbulb!) and had light without being electrocuted even once! So, thank goodness for small miracles.

Wait... what?

So, I learned today that wealthy Muscovites LOVE Elton John, and he is frequently here giving private concerts. Reason number 188,067 I need to marry a wealthy oligarch. Alas, it has been proving more difficult than I imagined.

Anyway, I just wanted to share this really "wtf" picture with y'all...

This is ice cream I just bought in the convenience store downstairs for about a buck.

... And Another Thing...

"Why go to Russia to have a Big Mac?"

This quote was from a conversation with a friend of mine at Stetson over the boys here, and why American's are a no-go. But seriously, we ate at McDonald's yesterday.

The fountain coke had ICE. I nearly cried. They also have a карри ролл, which is essentially fried chicken, lettuce, and curry sauce. Pretty good. But, fuck yeah. Ice.

Why the hell are you looking to me for advice?

Yesterday, we went to the Museum of the Revolution. Well, from what I understand, that is now called a modern history museum or whatnot. Pretty neat... its in the former English Club, a gentleman's social club much of Moscow's nineteenth-century elite belonged to. Quite pretty. We had a very nice, nerdy tour guide... very knowledgeable. It was helpful to have him, else we'd have no idea what we were looking at. However, we only had a few hours there, and it is a massive museum (something true of both museums I've seen here), so we didn't have time to wander and look at the random little things after he had given us the tour and described the major things. In fact, we had to skip from WWII to the 1980's : (. Also, being a man, he focused mostly on the battleships and weapons, and I wanted to look at the clothing and photographs of the royal family. Although they did have the gun that supposedly killed the last tsar. I wanted to ask if it was true that bullets bounced off of the tsarina and Grand Duchesses because of the jewelry sewn into their clothing, but I didn't have a chance. I wish we had had more time to wander.

Last night, as always, I had difficulty getting to sleep. So, when I had to get up at 7:30am for my 9am seminar class, I was not pleased. As a result, everyone was pretty annoyed when there was some confusion and the professor forgot to show up. You mean we could have gone out last night/slept in? Well, I went home and took a nap. Bad idea. It is more or less impossible to get out of bed when it is literally freezing outside.

I finally bit the bullet and joined the Russian Lit class here, and I love it! The professor is very knowledgeable, and pretty funny.

Also, I re-taped my windows again. In hopes that I won't die in my sleep.

Just... Wow

So, I wish a very happy St. Valentine's day/Singles' Awareness Day to all of those reading this. To be honest, mine was not particularly pleasant, but 'twas probably more so than a bad day in the states.

Class went pretty well. Not so much of a mindfuck as my Saturday classes are... those are in pure Russian. Spencer had to skedaddle home for a skype date, so Chris and I meandered around the local apartment buildings looking for anything interesting. Not much. We almost accidentally walked into a 24-hour vet.

A note to those studying in Russia: I keep forgetting to tell y'all, but bring an extra towel. Yes, the provide one, but it is smaller than the one I use to dry my hair at home. Also, all you girls who think I'm crazy for wearing skirts here: I tried to wear jeans once, and about froze to death. Womens' jeans are too tight to comfortably fit thermals under. I recommend longish skirts with thermals underneath. I just got home, it is -20 C outside, and I am wearing a minidress and 2 pairs of leggings, and I was more or less warm on my legs.

Also, men, please ignore the next paragraph:
Women, tampons are very hard to find here. Ashan has a million varieties of pads, and a few types of tampons, but, from what I saw, only one type which has a applicator (the sort we are used to in the U.S.) Be forewarned.



Men, you are allowed to read now.



We had made plans to go out for Valentine's day, a few of us. So, a mess of us had supper, and then Grisha and I went to get pretty (er). I was the first over to Chris' to pregame, followed by Grisha and Will. Chris and I split a Red Devil, which is essentially a Russian 4Loko, and is actually pretty good. Then we drank vodka, which is more or less what you do here. Greg had heard about something going on outside, by the statue of Lomonosov in the evening, for Valentine's day, so we headed out there.

Alas, we headed out about 10, so whatever we were looking for had long since ended. We ended up walking to our usual bar, by the metro. Please understand, I looked like a pimp's girlfriend. Chiffon minidress from Scotland, brown leggings, heeled boots... fur coat. I felt pretty pumped walking from my hallway to the techno the dejournaya was listening to.

Note to those going abroad: make friends with your dejournaya. I have a few who seem to like me, or are at least amused by my friendly demeanor (unlike that of the Russian girls). You cannot bribe them with vodka, no matter what Denner says. They have installed cameras to prevent this... a few other Americans have already tried.

So yeah. Usual bar. Next to the metro station... firefighter-themed. Over-priced, but it is close. I spent under 250p for a vodka pineapple juice and a delicious pieroshki with cabbage. So I don't complain. Grisha and Will had come up with what they perceived to be a great business idea, and I more or less agreed with them. Chris was belligerently drunk, in his own way, which means he wanted to be analytical and play devil's advocate. And we wanted him to shut the hell up and let them enjoy their pipe dreams.

I am incredibly proud of myself. I've watched Russians, and the American boys, slip and fall on the ice in snow boots. I managed to stay upright in high heels, inebriated. I'm 100% certain I will slip and fall on the ice, but tonight was a victory.

Made it home finally. Alone on Valentine's Day. Not that I am particularly depressed that its Valentine's day... random pagan, psuedo-Christian holidays never bothered me. But I don't have class tomorrow, and I feel I should still be having fun or being out somewhere exciting.

I finally met my roommate. By which I meant, I finally learned her name. I was calling my best friend to talk to him about being mildly depressed, when she knocked on my door and told me I was being loud, and she was trying to sleep. I apologized, and she added "oh, and my name is Maria." I felt bad for keeping her up, but really? I've lived here a week and she just now introduces herself to me?

So sadly, no drunken Russian boys for me to take advantage of. Sorry to disappoint my soon-to-be-traveling-to-Russia girlfriends back home.

Note to those studying abroad: if space allows it, bring packaging tape. I have a hella draft, and have been unable to find tape at Media Markt or Ashan. And it is hella cold.

Too Tired to Come up with a Witty Title

Well. Today was one of my two days without class. I woke up to meet everyone at the metro for a mystery excursion. We ended up going to Red Square to see the history museum there. I got to see the domes of St. Basil's, but it was too damn cold to really go everywhere else.

The museum was really quite interesting. I'm obviously going not going to list everything I saw there... most history museums contain roughly the same things. This one happened to have considerably more quantities of gold, military uniforms, and illuminated manuscripts than your average museum. I was really impressed by the illuminated manuscripts. All in all, it was an absolutely amazing museum.

Note to those going abroad: bring packing tape. There is no weatherstripping around my windows, and I cannot find tape ANYWHERE, so I pretty much freeze to death. I got ID'd buying vodka, which was weird. Also, don't bring an American hair dryer. Mine fried, but I was able to buy a travel one from Ashan for $9.

Stephanie and I had an adventure making out way home from Ashan. We got on one of the little bus/van things we took to the metro station. The driver passed the university, even though his stop list included the university. We finally pointed out to him that we lived back at the university. He brought us to the library across the street, and insisted that we hadn't paid him. Apparently he forgot we had gotten on at the metro. When we made it to the larger entrance, at around 7pm, it had already closed up for the night. So we had to walk around the building together in the FREEZING weather. Fun.

Went to the internet cafe with the rest of the Americans, and have spent the past few hours hanging out, doing homework, and generally chilling. I guess tomorrow is Valentine's Day, so Greg, Chris, and I are going out... no class Tuesday.

John-fuckin'-Denver?

So, an interesting day, to say the least. Class today was... well, it was a bit of a mindfuck. Our professor, while nice, spoke entirely in Russian. Even our instructions were in Russian, which was mildly confusing. I woke up not feeling well, and got steadily sicker as the class wore on. By the end of my nearly 4 hour class, I could barely answer questions, I was so sniffly.

Side note: Russians hate to give change. I purchased a banana for breakfast, for 11 p. When all I had was a 100p note, the clerk took my 1p coin, and asked me to come back later with 10p. When I did, different women were working, and were very confused by my trying to give them a 10p note, rather inexplicably.

After class, I slept until about 6, and awoke feeling better. Sniffly, but better. Chris and I ate dinner (soup, amazing mashed potatoes, and some sort of stewed apple with a sauce on top.) As the party we were due to attend didn't begin until 9pm, we had time to kill. We joined the rest of the Americans in the internet cafe for sodas.

Tarabeth and I ran up to her room to grab her nail polish remover (my nails were DISGUSTING). On our way back, we ran into a security guard in her hall talking to a very cute girl. She is Polish, named Agata, and she translated the guard for us. Essentially, pleasantries, where do we live, etc. But Agata lives alone, and the other 2 Polish girls live together, so she is lonely. We exchanged numbers, and I told her I would invite her out with us.

Chris ended up being too sick to join Elizabeth's little party, so it was 3 American women, and American man (fluent), 3 Russians and a very nice German boy. Elizabeth's boyfriend, Dima, is one of the funniest people I have ever met. He speaks decent English, peppered with curse words. It is actually quite amazing. Perhaps my favorite of my curses was "My fucking uncle fucked my pigs." He also has a way of moving, with somewhat overdramatic movements, that reminded me of someone on stage. Finally, Whitney (aka. "Memphis," an American I didn't know before, as she's in a different program, but I plan on hanging out with more often) pointed out he looked like Peewee Herman. Elizabeth was horrified, but, after being shown the videos, Dima seemed pretty keen with his new personality. Dima and his friend Roman also pantomimed the behavior of... dammit, I cannot remember the word. But essentially the boys we need to stay away from... "Russian guidos."

Perhaps the funniest of the evening's jokes was that of the "licked." Elizabeth claimed that her Russian sucked when she first moved here. Dima and Roman disagreed, and claimed it "licked." "Licked? That makes no sense!" "Licked... you know... its halfway to sucked!" Dima is... pretty hilarious.

Eventually, after the lot of us killed a second bottle of vodka, the boys brought out a guitar. They sang Russian and German songs, and finally, a few American songs... most notably, "Take me Home, Country Road." Yes, we sang Bob-fucking-Denver.

Side note: While walking home from class, the street lights were stuck. Cars didn't move, and kept beeping, while us pedestrians were pooled on the sidewalk, freezing. One woman made a break for it, and a cop stepped out of his car, wrestled her passport from her, and they walked to the car together, presumably so she could be ticketed. We also saw a motorcade... Two police cars around two very nice Mercedes driving past us about this time. Finally, we all got fed up with standing in the cold, and, en masse, waled across the street, backed up with cars. The cop was too busy writing the woman up to bother us. The lesson: don't fucking jaywalk, unless there are several dozen other people who also are. Safety in numbers.

More adventures? More malls?

Had another adventure last night. But that is usual, considering it is ME we are talking about.

Chris and I decided to go take pictures around campus last night. First, I showed him where the laundry facilities were. Standing by the elevators was a very random drunk bum. We were soon asked for a cigarette from this particular bum, but neither of us smoked. It was just a random thing to find in the basement of where you live...

We took a few pictures of sector A, which is all marble... very pretty. We wandered up the giant marble staircases. One side had all the lights off, and it was dimmed on the other. On the side with the lights, I took pictures of the Lenin and Marx statues until Chris freaked that we'd get in trouble if someone saw the flash. Given the mall adventure, it wouldn't surprise me.

We then walked around the back of the building, towards the area my room faces. I got a few nice pictures of the building, and of the monument directly outside my window. I kept hearing a small sound, and was worried I dropped the camera. Nope... we were walking on ice that kept breaking under our feet. We finally got too cold, and went inside to my room for the warming touch of vodka.

My window ice-box worked too well. My blini, juice, and hummus was frozen solid. We melted the juice a little bit on the radiator, and had vodka slushies, and read random webcomics/watched really weird hipster videos.

Russian history class today was... ok. I was a little saddened to learn we will be studying the 19th and 20th centuries. I like much, much older things. : (

After class, a mess of us ate in the cafeteria. I was planning on hanging out with an American ex-pat and her friends, but I later found that the plans fell through. So, Greg, an American who grew up in Russia, asked if any of us wanted to go into the city with him to meet his brother, and walk around a mall. Not knowing exactly what my plans for the evening were, and always up for exploring, I was the only one to volunteer.

On the way to the mall, we passed over the Moscow River (GORGEOUS) and I got to see the white house, where Putin works... So, this is where I shall spend my days holding up my "Я люблю Путина" glittery sign...

Greg and I took the metro to the largest mall I have ever seen... 7 stories high. Greg is more or less annoyed with the place. Apparently, it is so expensive people just go there to walk around... nobody can afford any of the things there. And I don't blame them... one area had elevators covered in Christmas lights, with domes atop them. At the bottom of the atrium stood a fountain surrounded by the tables of a cafe. Above their head there, there was a giant Ferraro Rocher ad.. a giant Christmas ("New Years'") tree made of little golden bulbs. In the hallways of the mall, fake cherry blossom trees bloomed.

We met his brother, Nikita, and Nikita's wife at a cafe called "Manga." It was literally Manga-themed... copies of Japanese comic books adorned the walls, and cute, cuddly, imaginary animals adorned the placemats. The waitresses were dressed Lolita-style, with black dresses, white crinolines, and tiny red aprons. I ordered a Coke (WITH ICE!) but they had Pepsi. I was so pleased with the fact that they had ice I didn't care. Ok, I cared, but was too embarrassed to try to explain to Greg, who would have to explain to the waiter, that Coke DOES NOT = Pepsi.

I did my best to listen to the conversation, but I understood only every few words. That was fine by me.

A quick word to all of my Russian-crazy female friends back in the states. Greg is adorable. I am living in fear that he shall read this, and I will be really embarrassed, but seriously. Be jealous that I get to hang out with cute Russian boys.

So, after spending a few hours at the mall, we returned home. Rather, we went to the bar next to our metro stop. I didn't really plan on going, because I was still under the impression that there was a party in my sector waiting for me. But when all the American guys showed up, and one promised to have only one drink, I figured I'd stay awhile, and return home with him. It was mostly guy-talk... all the boys wanting to seduce Russian women with their passports. Amusingly, one of the boys said "earmuffs" to me, as if I would be offended. har.

One of the boys found a random Russian kid from the Caucasus in his hall, had gotten him drunk off vodka, and brought him along. The kid barely spoke English, and goodness, was he drunk. The roommate of the American student involved and I agreed that giving booze to random strangers is not the way to a lasting and healthy relationship.

Also, mystery roommate is doing laundry in our shower. Great.

Quotes from a rather amusing friend

"You identified yourself as a foreigner. You interacted with the snow."

"Is he still on his MormonQuest?"

"So, he was in a port-a-potty, and we had some firecrackers..."

Mallrats

Well, 4 days in Moscow, and I've already been to the nearest mall twice... And nearly been escorted out by security once. In my defense, the grocery store is in the mall.

My Russian class began today, and it was a largely pleasant experience. There are only three of us in Level 2 (Chris, Spencer, and myself) so the class is mostly going back and forth between the three of us, answering questions and staging conversations. Our professor, Elena Vladimirovich, was hilarious. She was more or less hitting on Spencer ("ooooh. A bass voice!" "You aren't an athlete? Are you sure?"), and went on an amusing tandem about how Putin is so much more of a man than Medvedev ("He plays judo, karate, all sorts of sports. Medvedev, he doesn't play sports. He sits at his computer... Always on his computer... Not like Putin...") Overall, intense, but enjoyable.

Afterwards, about 5 of us went to the local mall. The day sort of went downhill from there. I had purchased my Russian textbook (550p... Imagine an American textbook under $20!) and sort of forgot to replenish my cash supply. So, we went to Media Markt first... THE MOST INSANE STORE EVER. It was like Best Buy, if Best Buy also sold vacuum cleaners, and stoves, and had an entire aisle of water filters, spanning from 239p (the one I bought) to 5.000 p. I also bought some headphones, mine being missing. Alas, no camera charger. Additionally, the entire store was a garish hot pink. So, like a giant Best Buy if run my sorority girls. The signs are pink. The employee uniforms were pink. It was a fashion NIGHTMARE. So, I had JUST enough money to buy my 2 items, and managed to REALLY piss off the sales girl. I didn't hear her say the price, so I was trying to pay the price on the computer. Bad idea.

Also, btws... the mall has a hookah bar. With icicle lights. Very nice... Likely very expensive.

Outside Ashan, there is a really pretty fountain. I asked Chris to take a picture, and within seconds we were accosted by a gentleman. I will assume he was mall security or something, but he wasn't in uniform. He very brusquely told us "No photos. You understand me?" He took too much pleasure in his job.

So, there is the big adventure of the day. I have my Russian history class tomorrow. Everyone is trying to talk me into taking the literature class, but I'd rather not test my luck...

Tales from the Icebox

I really adore Moscow so far. My only real complaints are a. Class on Saturday? Que? and b. inside is SO hot, outside is SO cold. But I am managing.

Still not luck on charging or uploading pictures. Deal with it.

Us American students met up at around 10am to walk to out test at 11am. Well, all of us except Chris who, as always forgot the memo. I've decided he is this trip's whipping boy. Are we late for something? Chris' fault. Heat goes out? Chris' fault. Chechen terrorists? Chris' fault.

We waited at the bus stop to take us to our facultet, but, sadly, every single bus that passed was packed. I mean PACKED. Per the Russian expression, so tight an apple can't fall. Which wouldn't have bothered us... we are from hearty stock, it would seem. But the bus drivers seemed hesitant to let anyone else on. One passenger managed to hop in, and the bus took off before he was even fully in the bus...

After waling the 20 minutes to our building, we waited several hours to take our 2 minute test. I am totally getting used to that. In the meantime, I met a Swede and Irish boy (who made fun of my use of y'all.) After learning that I placed 2nd year (big surprise), I received my class schedule. I was mildly horrified to learn I have class on Saturday, but it is apparently unavoidable.

Perhaps most importantly, the internet in my room magically started working today. I guess all it took was patience.

At about 5:30, about 5 of us set off on our first "real" adventure in Moscow. We walked to the metro station, and planned on taking the metro downtown. I was a mite spooked when the first thing we see is a young man with his armed pinned behind his head by another man, who called his friend over to help. The two men then pulled the third man out of eyesight. Nobody said anything... I assumed it was either some sort of gang kidnapping, or they were palinclothes police officers taking him away. Still, a little disconcerting...

We ended up missing our stop, and more or less wandered around some random (if very, very nice-looking) area of Moscow for awhile. I love how so many shops have icicle lights in the windows... it looks beautiful with the snow. We finally stopped for tea. I meant to order hot chocolate, but ended up ordering... well, I think it was a melted Hershey's bar. Quite delicious, but a little on the rich side. Note to self: order cocoa in the future.

Had another defrosted blini for supper (had 19p hummus and bread for lunch). The only other thing to note is that my roommate, who I have yet to meet, is totally AWOL. Her light was on the night I moved in, but the only thing to suggest she exists is her things in the bathroom. She hasn't been here in 2 days, at least. I'm beginning to think she is a ghost.

Also, when I ran upstairs to grab my jacket before going out, an old бабушка came over from one door down, with 2 desk lights in her hands. She kept talking to me, but I had no idea what she was saying, so I more or less said goodnight and walked away. So, very possibly under a witch/gypsy curse. I suppose we'll find out sooner or later...

Adventures in Moscow

I tossed and turned most of the night, as a result of jet lag. Awoke bright and early to do more paperwork. Because of the very official and beaurocratic nature of everything in this country, everything has to be signed, filled out in duplicate, returned, lost, and re-found to make it legal. It's like dealing with freakin' Vogons.

Chris met Marina at the wrong place, and we had to hunt him down. As a result, we got to eat a delicious meat pie (pasty-esque) from a kiosk while everyone else was having lunch, as we had to figure out what the hell was going on with out passport info. After everyone was corralled, we took a bus to the facultet. Bus stop=5-10 minute walk, plus a 5-10 minute bus ride. Marina says its a 15-20 minute walk to the facultet. I think she lies.

We had to go, 4 at a time (there were 10 of us) to fill out paperwork for passport control. Fun. Keep in mind Russian buildings are approx. 90 degrees inside, with no waterfountains, and no chairs hanging out around the hallways for comfort. So we did this... Chris, naturally, had forgotten his migration card, and hadn't taken any pictures, and had to return to the main building. P.S. If you study here, don't ever leave anything anywhere!

Upon returning, we all walked to the nearest metro stop... not super far. Marina did her best to explain how the system works. Its the world's most efficient metro, and I assume we'll need to make our own damn mistakes. Trial and error.

So, we walked from there to a mall. At the back of the mall was a grocery store... Ashan. I wanted to buy just toilet paper, but every single one of us ended up buying vodka. Its scary cheap here. I bought some top-shelf stuff for 300 p. Hell, Stoli was about the same price!

Alas, we all had these groceries we needed to carry home, and went outside to discover a full-blown snow storm. Ok, it might not have been a storm, per se. But it was snowing hella hard. And I could barely see in front of me. LOOOOOOOONNNNNGGGGG walk home.

So, we get home eventually. I open up my outside window, but my vodka, juice, blini (with cheese and ham), and hummus (only 19p!) on the windowsill. Then we all went to supper in the cantina. Which is a bitch not being able to ask what I'm eating. I eventually ate some mystery poultry ball, and potato salad, with чай. I swear, tea and the lack of ice my help me break my cola addicition. After fighting with my internet for about an hour, I gave up and went to the cafe, where I continued to fight with the stupid internet, but got it up long enough to get on facebook...

After this, two of the men in the group, Spencer (from Oregon, studies in PA) and Dan (a Pi Kapp from Virginia)wanted to go take pictures, and I went with them. We went up to their room to see if my camera would charge on his charging pad, but, no luck. We decided to just chill and drink. Dan and I managed to kill a bottle of vodka by ourselves. Concidering that 5 packs of cigarettes are about $8, and booze is so cheap, this country might be the death of me. I don't even smoke, but I might take it up, just so I have a small fire to huddle around.

I walked back to my room at about midnight, only to discover that the hallway connecting the side entrance (by their dorm) to my hall was locked up. I grabbed Spencer, who was still mildly sober, and we travelled 3/4 the way around the building until we found the back entrance by my room. So, I scooped more snow on my delicacies, and took a blini out to defrost on my radiator. Alas, I must leave you... Russian language test at 11am, and I need sleep!

Adventures in Travel (Part II)

So, finally at МГУ, safe and sound. Its about 9:30 local time, and I am about to curl up and sleep. Alas, no internet yet, but I hope to get it up by tomorrow so that I might update the blog with these juicy tidbits!

I am apparently horrible at math… the trip from Dusseldorf to Moscow was only 3 hours long, but it seemed much longer. There was no room for people to store their bags, so mine had to sit on my feet. I finally was able to catch a few winks of sleep, but awoke myself every time , really embarrassed. I have a problem with my tonsils, which gives me sleep apnea and… well, I’m a bit of a loud sleeper as a result.

Touchdown in Moscow. Watched a few airport workers run for their lives after the snow plow clearing the runways just about blanketed them. Passport control was hell… I had my coats off, but the small room had several hundred people in it, and I felt about to black out.

Finally, I made it through, and met Chris. I was getting a little concerned, because the front two pockets of one of my suitcases was empty. My bags were stuffed to capacity when I left. I assured myself that things had just been moved about in security, and got in the car to go to the university.

With traffic and whatnot, we didn’t arrive at the university until 5 or 6ish. We were met by a very kind ladt named Marina, who then left us alone for about an hour to take care of the students who arrived earlier. When she finally returned, she took Chris and my passports to the dormitory office, and returned with little slips. She took Chris to his dorm, somewhere on the other side of the building, first. I waited. And waited. And dozed. Finally she returned. We dragged my suitcases, up stairs, down stairs, and finally to a little dorm room which was more or less exactly as I expected. It is incredibly small, but room enough for just me. After we dropped by bags off, she walked me to a little café where I ate a porky kabob. She showed me the restaurant where they serve бизнес ланч (not just for businessmen any more!) and the little market where students can grocery shop. Their C-Store has steaks and lambs. Just sayin’. Get on the ball, Stetson.

Finally, I returned to my room to unpack. Alas, I learned that both my camera battery and camera cord are missing. Other items probably are as well, but they are likely just panties or something I can’t identify off the top of my head. So, I’ll either call AirBerlin, or have mama do it, tomorrow. Makes me sad, though… what if my camera dies????

I am, as previously mentioned, about to turn in. I am absolutely exhausted, and a little sad. I sort of wish I had a roommate now, just so I don’t feel so alone. The only person I know here is asleep in another dorm somewhere across this giant building (absolutely beautiful, btw), and I am cut off from my loved ones overseas by my inability to figure out the internet here. I really want to chat with my best friend (I’m sure he’ll have a million dumb comments to add to this), and the gentleman who has been making me smile so much lately.

On that subject, OMG. Russian men=gorgeous. I see 4 attractive men for every unattractive on. Even those over 40 usually have some sort of Liam Neson thing going for them.

Adventures in Travel (Part I)

For my last day in the U.S., I went with my mother to the Everglades Seafood Fest. This weekend-long festival, celebrating the Shellfish God, takes place in Everglades City, on Florida’s west coast, about 2 hours through insect- and Reservation cop-infested territory. Once there, it’s largely rednecks, bikers, festival food, seafood, and country music. We met a very nice soldier set to be shipping out to Afghanistan in a few months, listened to some Josh Gracin.

I tell you this story to tell you another story. While at the Seafood fest, I devised a game, titled, “Spot the Fair Personality.” Really hot redneck chick with average-looking rocker dude? Check. Really fat chick with comically skinny boyfriend? Check. Seemingly normal woman with visible racist tattoo? Check. (The tattoo in question read “Aryan Princess” and was scrolled across her chest.

After arriving at the airport in MIA (too anxious to be really nervous, yet) I noticed some crazy personalities, and came up with a similar game. Group of about 10 German punk rockers/metalhead, some easily into their sixties? Check. I waited at the terminal for about an hour and half to board, and wandered around some. Sat across from the cutest guy ever… no wedding ring, American. He stayed on the phone the entire time I was there, and I heard him call someone named Arnold “babe.” My luck. I gave up and fetched some water.

Whilst waiting to board, a German family (a middle-aged couple with elderly parents?) literally pointed and laughed at me for carrying a fur coat. I know three words in German (guten tag, danka, scheudenfruede) but I got the gist of what they were saying… “Silly American girl, thinks its SO cold in Germany!” (please note, right not, at 7:50am, it is something like 50 degrees here in Dusseldorf, and I can walk outside in just my shirt sleeves.) I didn’t want to bother explaining to them that I was connecting.

I sat, as luck would have it, all the way in the back of my section of the airplane. Next to the bathrooms, as always. The gentleman I sat next to was older, in a not-very-distinguished sort of way. We literally did not exchange one word. He woke up for meals, and that was it.

Supper, since you asked, was a penne alfredo with spinach, a lemon cake too sweet to eat, bread, and a dollop of really tart slaw. Quite edible. Interestingly enough, the meat option was chicken in spinach. I guess spinach is a “thing” in Germany. Breakfast, served at about 11pm Miami time, was a piece of ham, four wedges of salami, two slices of Cheddar cheese, a cold roll, a hot roll, and some yoghurt. I have learned in the past few hours Germans love their fucking bread. I actually ate the salami, something I have never eaten in the past. It was oily and buttery, and seemed to sort of melt in my mouth.

I realized at some point early in the flight exactly what I forgot to pack. Earphones, and, likely, my “Dirty Russian” book. Earphones I’m sure I can pick up, but missing the book upsets me a bit, as I ordered it expressly for the trip. It is filled with all sorts of curse words which, being a lady, I wouldn’t use, as well as fun little phrases, like how to ask a taxi driver to bring you to a brothel, or how to tell a lover you are married, and would like to keep your affairs covert.

I did not happen to sleep at all on the flight over, as much as I would have liked to. My seat barely reclined, and I was unwilling to snuggle with the gentleman next to me (who was quite comfortable leaning up against the window.) Besides, one of my friends lent me a really good Neil Gammon novel (American Gods) and I stayed up finishing it. So, when breakfast came around, I stocked up on caffeine. Maybe I can get a few minutes of sleep on the 5-hour flight to Moscow. It’s hard to believe that after all that, I’m still only a little over halfway there!

Upon arriving in Dusseldorf, I managed to hold up the line in passport control as the very nice passport woman (the quintessential German sort, with fair eyes and hair, tall and slender) called to find out which gate my flight was due into, and directions for how to get there.

On first glance, Dusseldorf is very similar to most other airports in the EU. The baggage claim is grey, depressing, and no-frills. The rest of the airport is grey, with marble floors and steel, and very modern-looking. However, the more I explored, the more character I noticed. Whereas in American airports, which are most welcoming for your arrival (baggage claims and the like), European airports seem to be nicer for those leaving. The terminals and entrance areas are filled with nice little Duty-Free shops, selling Designer makeup and all sorts of liquor. I think American shops are mostly knick-knacks. This airport seems to have a metric shitton of cafes… first I see a McDonalds café, then one entitled “Chicago” with a giant skyline. Next thing I know, there is a café every 20 feet or some, with some of the most delicious-looking sandwiches, mostly on artisan bread, on display. I take pictures of some random things, and you’ll likely find those on facebook. Then I come to a 3-story escalator, and follow it to the top. To a Starbucks, naturally. But behind that was an amazing bit of sculture… hundreds of twisted metal bars in perfect lines, being spun slowly around. I take another escalator up to the next story, to see an “observation deck.” The deck in question was out of order, but it stood at the end of a long line of kiosk-style travel agencies, each with its own cubicle. Also, there was a very confused-sort of restaurant. It was closed, so I snuck in. Travel agency-kiosks stood next to the bar. It reminded me of Cracker Barrel, if it were run by the Wongs from Futurama… slightly Southwestern cowboyesque, but not. Antlers and steer skulls, along with random taxidermied animals adorned the walls, but the little shop that was opening up served-you guessed it-sandwiches. The walls were burnt yellow. I snuck in and took a picture of the airport outside, but employees started arriving, and I wasn’t brave enough to take pictures of the restaurant itself.

With not much less to explore, and a scarily heavy bag and scarily warm coats over my arm, I decided to go through security. Boy are these Germans THOUROUGH. Everyone going through gets patted down. The giant, angry-looking redheaded woman (who, I will imagine, DID NOT play “Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS,” doing the world of cinema a great disservice) was probably more intimate with me than your average doctor. I probably now have a latex glove or scalpel accidentally tucked away in my intestines as we speak. Not that I’m complaining… I beats being blown up by Chechens. Although, what they would be doing in Dusseldorf, I don’t know.

So, that’s about it, so far. I’m hanging out at the gate, waiting to board my plane. I’m a little freaked out by the weather. All the Germans are wearing coats and scarves, and I’m really worried that Moscow is cold but not THAT cold. In which case, I packed the totally wrong set of clothes.

Another quick note: these German men are ADORABLE. Not to say that they all are, obviously not. It just seems like, per capita, they have more than their share.

Oh, also. Fun fact. This airport might have a surplus of cafes, but it does not have a surplus of WCs. There is one on the first and third floors, from what I gathered in my exploring. I also really hate how these EU airports lack the actual paper towels, using the reusable cloth ones instead. I just want to wash my face, and dry it properly! But, I was amused that they sell thongs in the vending machine. At least, I think that’s what they were advertising. Were they one-size fits all, I wonder?

Here Goes Nothing...

So, I leave tomorrow. Still feel like I barely know the Russian language. Maybe I should have studied a little bit. I do have a 15 hour plane ride... Fuck that, I have a Neil Gammon novel to read. I'll figure out the Russian language as I get there.

So, here's my amusing last-minute email to my professor. See if you can read the sheer terror between the lines!

Ok. A few last minute questions...

Russian diamonds. It is my understanding that it is now legal to bring them to the U.S. Is this true? If so, do I pay the custom? Is the bribe for being caught smuggling worse?

I know wearing clothing that has Latin lettering on it is a no-no, but what about Western European designers? Will a Chanel, Dooney, or LV earn me respect, or disdain? I really can't imagine Russian women DON'T carry Prada, but if told otherwise, I'll believe you. I've packed one unmarked purse, but all the rest I own have some brand on them or another.

Also, freaking the fuck out. But I'm sure I'll survive. I don't know if Chris told you, but they have room for us in the main building. I am bringing peanut butter over so that Elizabeth (the SRAS intern I've been speaking to) and I can make cookies. And hopefully enough Reese's to start my own empire.


Thanks,

Rachel Orr

P.S. I hold you personally accountable for any bad/cold weather. You talked me into this.

His response was incredibly amusing. It involved rabid bunnies attacking my Prada purse...

Preparations, Part... fuck it doesn't matter I'mn leaving in 6 days!!!!!

So. All packed. Scared as shit. I am more or less constantly fighting with my mother over this point. Every night for the past few weeks has gone something like:
"Rachel, I'm so scared..."
"YOU'RE SCARED? I'm spending 5 months in a foreign and horribly cold country. Get over it."
"But what if something happens to you?"
"Stop making me worry more!!!!!"

Not much else to say. I am currently being all domestic and baking for all of my best friends. I have a date tomorrow night, then I'm heading to Stetson for a few friends with my best friends.

Called and confirmed my flight today, and reserved my extra bag for the flights. Waiting for my visa. Still.

I almost emailed my professor to ask if argyle is appropriate for Russia (a google search did not prove helpful), but he already thinks I'm a fashionista. I'm bringing it anyway. I stand out like an American with or without argyle.

So, prepare for long, drawn-out observations upon my departure.