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.
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