Now for Sunday...
Susan and I decided to complete our monastery/convent/cemetery weekend with a quiet trip the the Novadevichiy Convent, the most famous convent in Moscow. There are a lot of very interesting stories behind it which, along with its splendor and cemetery, ensure that it is in every “Top 20 Places to Visit” list for Moscow. Like most old cathedrals, it was breathtaking. It is surrounded by a massive wall which overlooks a frozen pond (ice-skating, woohoo!). The snow gives it an almost creepy, but hushed air which is quite appropriate considering its history (yes, I am going to make you look its history up for yourself). But I digress, since I cannot find the appropriate words to describe it.
On our way to the convent from the metro, we were stopped in the street by this old man. He asks us if we speak English and then where we are from. Upon my answer of “S.SH.A” (USA), he immediately goes into this rant about how there is no way that I am from America. Why you ask? Well, apparently because I am a “negro.” And, of course, as a “negro,” I must be from Africa. Like my “negro” president. How happy those “negros” must be, he tells me, that they have their “negro” president from Africa. Americans are so stupid, he tells me, because they have a “negro” president from Africa. (And yes, I will continue to put quotes around the word “negro”). Well, Americans are stupid anyways, just more so because of their president. At this point, Susan breaks in and tells him that, no, actually Obama was born in America and, in fact, grew up in Hawaii. He then turns to Susan and asks, “Do you completely understand my English. I speak the English very correctly, yes? It is completely understandable, my English? Completely understandable?” We assure him that, yes, we understand what he is saying. He then turns back to Susan and tell her that her English is not “completely understandable” and that she needs to learn to speak English correctly. Yes, a Russian man told my British roommate that she needs to learn to speak English correctly. The man – who came to be known as Uncle Solo – starts grabbing my hand and then my hair (I had it in pigtails – stupid, stupid idea) and continues in his attempts to make admit that I am a negro from Africa.
This continues for about 10 minutes until Susan tell him that we are late to meet some friends. “Where,” he repeatedly asks. “Over there,” she replies, thrusting her finger in a random direction. He tells her that she is pointing incorrectly, but gives us his phone number with our assurances that we would call him if we needed anything and lets us on our way. We finally make it to the Novadevichiy Convent, heartened by the fact that our one weird incident per day quota has been met.
We make it to the convent and walk around for a while. We go in to one of the cathedrals where there was a church service going on and promptly turned around and left. We found the grave of Denis Davydov, a Hussar and poet slain in 1812 and later immortalized by Pushkin and Tolstoy in “War and Peace.” We looked for but were unable to find General Orlov's grave, the man who accepted the surrender of Paris by Napoleon. As we were having such a great time finding the gravestones of all these cool, dead people we decided to head for the Novadevichiy Cemetery, the second most prestigious cemetery in Moscow, second only to burial within the Kremlin wall. So we take off wit my trusty guidebook and go looking for the likes of Mayakovsky, Gogol, Chekhov and Yeltsin. My guidebook indicated that one must pay a small entrance fee to get into the cemetery, so once we arrived I start walking around looking for it.
I finally find this small little hut that looks promising and try to go inside. This old lady comes out yelling at me about tours or something of the sort. I tell her, “no thank you, I do not want a tour, but may I please buy a ticket,” only to get sent to the bathrooms. I go into the bathroom to hide for a bit and get out my guidebook again. Susan and I decide just to walk around without paying, since it seems that my guidebook was incorrect, and head out of the bathroom. Right outside the door are these two young security guides who look at us, point towards the cemetery, and say “GO” repeatedly until we follow them towards the graves. A couple of minutes into the walk and I have figured out that they are both names Sergei, they work at the cemetery as guards, and they want to show us around. Sergei #1 (the most talkative of the two) grabs my guidebook and starts asking me who I want to see. They pull us deeper inside the cemetery until I am so lost that even if I wanted to make a run for it, I would probably end up in the casket along with Khrushchev before I found my way to the entrance. So, for the next hour and half, Sergei and Sergei show us around the cemetery, randomly pointing to a gravestone and asking me if I knew who that way. “Oh course,” I say, acting offended that they would even ask while asking Susan under my breathe if she has any idea. My camera died half-way through (actually, it froze), which seemed to royally offend Sergei #1. Sergei #2 was just happy with his cigarette and, I presume, a chance to get away from the crazy lady at the gates. Eventually, Sergei runs out of cool, dead people in his attempt to woe me, and admits that he has no idea where either Mayakovsky or the Tretyakov brothers are buried. By this point, I have learned his whole history, a few new Russians words, and came away with the knowledge that Russians find anyone who laughs absolutely hilarious (and I don't mean “haha” hilarious). By the time we were able to escape, we had seen Gogol. Checkov, Levitan, Bulgakov, Molotov, the air-crash victims, Prince Kropotkin, Scriabin, Chaliapin, Khrushchev, Yeltsin, Nikitan, Raisa Gorbacheva, and many more. We still were unable to find Mayakovky and the Tretvakov brothers. It was interesting, but kinda disappointing, so Susan and I promised to go back another time...once we found me a wig and fake mustache...
After that, we walked around for a bit on the frozen pond outside the convent (it was snowed over, so we couldn't skate), got terrible, instant NesCafe cappuccinos from a kiosk, and headed back to the metro. I had a luncheon/seminar with the director of the SRAS program, my boss, and some other students on the SRAS. We ate Georgian food (ah, Georgian food), drank wine, talked, and got serenaded to by this old Georgian guy...repeatedly. I made some new friends, forced Jason to promise to go on one of my exploration days with me, learned some stuff, and just had a nice evening. So, that way my day. Now, I have 4 more days to live through before the next weekend. I may do a lot of museums, or just pick a random metro. Stay tuned!
Oh, FYI, I figured out the banana ordeal and still haven't gotten my room-thing worked out. The big freeze the weathermen promised never happened and it has actually started to warm up. I think it got just above freezing today. That's all. Loves to all!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Take Three
Well, yet another eventful week. Started My new class this week. I am supposed to start two other classes within the next week, so I asked for my hours to be cut down (I was doing around 22 hours a week of language study). I was moved to individual classes and started them last week. They are not nearly as useful as my last class. My old class was a group class with some expats who all know the language a lot better than I do, so it was very difficult (challenging, whatever), but very useful. It was literally 4 ½ hours a day of straight conversation (with some grammar and whatnot) which meant that I did a lot of speaking and a lot of listening. Basically, everything I should be doing at this point to survive. It was not a traditional class with tons of bookwork, but was more focused on actually surviving in Russia. My current class focuses a lot more on grammar, reading comprehension and repetition. My professor is very concerned with making sure everything I say is grammatically correct and has the best phrasing. Which is good in a way, but is not what I am really looking for at this point. Thus, I have started sitting in (when possible) with my other class. It kinda defeats the purposes of less hours, but I feel like I need it in order to learn as much as I can. We'll see how the new classes fit into it. Maybe I can even work out something with my old professor to attend her class, just with less hours. Hmmm.....
On another note, I started my translation internship this week. I have been doing some translations for a while, but I actually went into the office for the first time. It's about an 1½ commute each way, which is not great, but as I go in only once a week, it is manageable. Not a fan of walking back to the metro in the dark (it's not the best part of town and I almost got bitten by a dog, again...), but it's not too hard to fine due to the lovely McDonald's right next to the metro (go figure). Still not sure how going to the office is going to work out once I start my new classes, but we'll work it out. I'm basically going to throw everything out the window and start over once those classes start. I really, really need that political science credit...
Still haven't gotten my paperwork straightened out as the International Student Office is STILL not open, but hope to get it straightened out this week. So, mom, please, stop freaking out. I'm a perfectly fine. I am not getting evicted. I have not gotten arrested. Nor have I landed myself in a hospital. All is good. I repeat: all is good. :D
Susan and I did a monastery weekend. On Saturday we went to the Donskoy and Danilov Monasteries in the south of Moscow. The Donskoy Monastery is easily the most atmospheric of the two. Once you get off the metro, you head through a local market that sells eveything from ice cream to whole fish to underwear. In the distance you will see the large, brick red fence and large towers (erected for fear of Mongol invasion in the 14th century) that surround the monastery. Walk around the fence through a small patch of woods to an opening in the gates. Many Russians take their weekend stroll around the monastery so you will often find parents with young children or an elderly couple walking in the woods. Once through the gates, the first thing that will catch your eye is the large cathedral that stands in the center of the monastery. At a second look, you will see a row of Soviet tanks and an airplane commemorating an armed unit formed by the church during WWII. Past the church, thousands of gravestones litter the ground. If you can read Cyrillic, there are maps placed throughout the grounds that identify some of the more notable inhabitants of the Donskoy graveyard. At a glance, no one in particular stands out, but a few nondescript graves hold Tolstoy's grandmother and Pushkin's grandparents.
About a 20 minute walk east of the Donskoy Monastery is the Danilov Monastery, the official head of the Eastern Othodox Church. If you are confident in your directional-skills or have a great compass, go for the walk. If not, just head back to the metro you came from and take the metro to Danilov. Don't guess. You will get lost. Trust me...
The Danilov Monastery is much less majestic than Donskoy. It holds a couple of cathedrals (some of which are under construction) and a couple of offices run by the church. However, if you go on the weekends during the afternoon, stay for the bell ringing. Outside the main cathedral hang a number of massive bells that the monks play. Very cool. Also, if your there and up for a long evening, stay for the service. It's about two hours long and you must stand the entire time. In the far back, there are some benches designed for the foreigners, but don't do it. (Dr. Denner – I made it through the entire service! Woohoo! ) FYI, ladies, you need to cover your head to enter the cathedral – a hat or coat hood will do. The service starts with music from the all-men choir and alternates between singing and reading (chanting, really). There are lots of guys in dresses and Darth Vader coats that throw and incense ball around and walk on red carpets. And people do a lot of crossing and bowing. It's long and confusing (if you, like me, have no knowledge about Eastern Orthodox rituals) but something you need to do if you are going to stay any length of time in Moscow. I'll probably head back for the 8+ hour service on Easter...
If you are tired after the service and in need of a hot meal, right around the corner is Yalkie Polkie, an inexpensive chain that sells traditional, good quality Russian food. If you are in need of something a little more American, on your way back to the metro, stop by the mall for a Starbucks' coffee (one of the three Starsbucks that I know of in Moscow). They sell real Starbucks' coffee, which is heaven-sent after the terrible coffee you find most places around here.
After our day of monastery hopping, I left Susan to go meet up with Joe for dinner (at the lovely Scans). We ate and talked and drank. Tea...yummy... After a week of potatoes, mayonnaise salads, more potatoes, and sour cream, I was dying for some good American food. And I got lots of take-out to hold me over. Yea!
On Sunday, we completed our monastery weekend with a trip to the Novadevichiy Convent. Of course, nothing can be simple in Moscow, so our quite little trip turned out quite differently. Stay tuned for more information...
PS: Just got invited to watch Russian animation tonight by a bunch of guys. Um...
On another note, I started my translation internship this week. I have been doing some translations for a while, but I actually went into the office for the first time. It's about an 1½ commute each way, which is not great, but as I go in only once a week, it is manageable. Not a fan of walking back to the metro in the dark (it's not the best part of town and I almost got bitten by a dog, again...), but it's not too hard to fine due to the lovely McDonald's right next to the metro (go figure). Still not sure how going to the office is going to work out once I start my new classes, but we'll work it out. I'm basically going to throw everything out the window and start over once those classes start. I really, really need that political science credit...
Still haven't gotten my paperwork straightened out as the International Student Office is STILL not open, but hope to get it straightened out this week. So, mom, please, stop freaking out. I'm a perfectly fine. I am not getting evicted. I have not gotten arrested. Nor have I landed myself in a hospital. All is good. I repeat: all is good. :D
Susan and I did a monastery weekend. On Saturday we went to the Donskoy and Danilov Monasteries in the south of Moscow. The Donskoy Monastery is easily the most atmospheric of the two. Once you get off the metro, you head through a local market that sells eveything from ice cream to whole fish to underwear. In the distance you will see the large, brick red fence and large towers (erected for fear of Mongol invasion in the 14th century) that surround the monastery. Walk around the fence through a small patch of woods to an opening in the gates. Many Russians take their weekend stroll around the monastery so you will often find parents with young children or an elderly couple walking in the woods. Once through the gates, the first thing that will catch your eye is the large cathedral that stands in the center of the monastery. At a second look, you will see a row of Soviet tanks and an airplane commemorating an armed unit formed by the church during WWII. Past the church, thousands of gravestones litter the ground. If you can read Cyrillic, there are maps placed throughout the grounds that identify some of the more notable inhabitants of the Donskoy graveyard. At a glance, no one in particular stands out, but a few nondescript graves hold Tolstoy's grandmother and Pushkin's grandparents.
About a 20 minute walk east of the Donskoy Monastery is the Danilov Monastery, the official head of the Eastern Othodox Church. If you are confident in your directional-skills or have a great compass, go for the walk. If not, just head back to the metro you came from and take the metro to Danilov. Don't guess. You will get lost. Trust me...
The Danilov Monastery is much less majestic than Donskoy. It holds a couple of cathedrals (some of which are under construction) and a couple of offices run by the church. However, if you go on the weekends during the afternoon, stay for the bell ringing. Outside the main cathedral hang a number of massive bells that the monks play. Very cool. Also, if your there and up for a long evening, stay for the service. It's about two hours long and you must stand the entire time. In the far back, there are some benches designed for the foreigners, but don't do it. (Dr. Denner – I made it through the entire service! Woohoo! ) FYI, ladies, you need to cover your head to enter the cathedral – a hat or coat hood will do. The service starts with music from the all-men choir and alternates between singing and reading (chanting, really). There are lots of guys in dresses and Darth Vader coats that throw and incense ball around and walk on red carpets. And people do a lot of crossing and bowing. It's long and confusing (if you, like me, have no knowledge about Eastern Orthodox rituals) but something you need to do if you are going to stay any length of time in Moscow. I'll probably head back for the 8+ hour service on Easter...
If you are tired after the service and in need of a hot meal, right around the corner is Yalkie Polkie, an inexpensive chain that sells traditional, good quality Russian food. If you are in need of something a little more American, on your way back to the metro, stop by the mall for a Starbucks' coffee (one of the three Starsbucks that I know of in Moscow). They sell real Starbucks' coffee, which is heaven-sent after the terrible coffee you find most places around here.
After our day of monastery hopping, I left Susan to go meet up with Joe for dinner (at the lovely Scans). We ate and talked and drank. Tea...yummy... After a week of potatoes, mayonnaise salads, more potatoes, and sour cream, I was dying for some good American food. And I got lots of take-out to hold me over. Yea!
On Sunday, we completed our monastery weekend with a trip to the Novadevichiy Convent. Of course, nothing can be simple in Moscow, so our quite little trip turned out quite differently. Stay tuned for more information...
PS: Just got invited to watch Russian animation tonight by a bunch of guys. Um...
Friday, February 6, 2009
Russian Superstitions and Angry Desjornias
(Written Wednesday)
Now, for those of you that don’t know, Russians are very superstitious people. They are superstitious about everything. Drinking buttermilk will cure all illnesses; sitting by a draft will surely kill you. You can’t shake hands over a doorstep. You absolutely must look at a mirror if you forget something and have to go back to retrieve it (I learned this one quickly). And today, I learned a new one.
Internet access is very sketchy at MGU. You can go to an internet café across campus if you want internet, but it’s very expensive to buy it and although you can easily hook up to another café’s internet connection from it for free, they have guards all over the café that are constantly looking for any “suspicious” activity. I used to get my internet that way, but soon got tired of buying terrible $5 cappuccinos, the relatively long walk (just to get the internet, anyways), and the glares. You can also get internet set up in your room by a mysterious group called the “Hackers.” Apparently, these are students at MGU and for anywhere from $30-$80 a month (depending on how much they think they can get out of you), you can get wifi in your room. Finally, you can go to an internet café right next to the stolovia in the basement of the main building. Of course, you need to buy something to use the internet, but it just happens to be the most expensive café on campus. I go there often, but don’t like paying a $3 bucks for yet another cup of tea just because I forgot to send an email. So, most students sit on the floor on top of the café and can get access to the café’s internet that way. I now spend most my evenings sitting on the floor of the school using the internet. But, I digress…
There I am, as per usual, sitting on the cold floor by the door, shivering as the door blows another gust of icy-cold wind and snow into the building, and writing an email to my boss. A Russian girl comes up to me, asking me if I can help her get on the internet because her laptop is not connecting. I try to help, to no avail, and we sit there together on the floor, she trying to get on the internet, me trying desperately not to look too foreign. We are sitting there when this angry old man (yes, apparently there are also angry old men in Russia) comes up to us, yelling at us (well, it turned out he was yelling at me) to get off the cold floor. He spits, “Foreigner. American” like a curse. Of course, at that precise moment, I am reading a warning sent from the State Department to all Americans abroad about the need to take extra precaution abroad due to some recent violence in Gaza. I have never been identified as an Americanabroad. Heck, I’ve rarely been identified as an American in America. And the first time has to be when I am reading about how much other countries hate our guts…Lovely. Anyways, that’s not the point.
The old man continues to yell at us to get off the cold floor while the Russian girl yells back. I don’t know what is going on at the point and am just trying to mimic the Russian girl while simultaneously ignoring them both. Fortunately, by this point, my battery is getting low and I have the perfect excuse to leave. I casually put my laptop in my bag and, with one last haughty glare – who are you calling an American, you decrepit old man (apparently, that’s how you are supposed to handle these situations…sure) – I flee for my room. Once I get back, I rush to Susan, who surely has the answer for why random people like to yell at me. She does. And now I return to Russian superstitions. Apparently, sitting on cold floors makes women barren. As Susan tells me this, I promptly sit down on the cold floor of our hallway, hoping to increase my chances at barrenness – sorry mom, no grandchildren for you. So, yeah. There’s another Russian superstition for you. So, ladies, if you want children, off the floor you go. And those of you who don’t, come join me on the floor. It's really quite nice...
But, wait, I am not finished. That was just part one of my evening. The old man was not, in fact, the angry Desjornia I spoke of in the title. No, that would be too easy. As I sat here, innocently writing this blog at my desk, I hear a rap on the door. Thinking it is one of Susan’s friends, I leave the door to her and continue as before. Soon, I hear the angry voice of our resident desjornia (the Russian equivalent of a housemother, just angrier). Thinking that it was another kettle raid (for, truly, owning a kettle is an automatic ticket to the seventh level of hell around here), I pray a short prayer for my doomed suitemate and pretend not to notice them. But no, because the angry desjornia is point in my room while yelling in Russian. Resigning myself to death by bludgeoning by potatoes, I head out to meet my fate.
She then starts yelling at me about February the 1st, pointing at her clipboard all the while. “Today is the fourth,” she shrieks. “February the 1st has passed.” “Truly,” I think, “I thought the fourth came after the first, silly me.” Outloud, I just repeat my standby of “da.” Through all her chattering, I am able to discern that apparently, I am not supposed to be in the dorm past February 1st unless I can produce something mysteriously called a naropa (or something...). I have no idea what she is talking about so I return to my room and hand her my student ID and prospusk (the card that gets me into the dorm). “Het propuska,” she continues to screech. I turn to Susan in mind-numbing fear, only to see my wide-eyed faced mirrored in her own. Together, we are able to work out that I am supposed to have some other paperwork in order to extend my stay. Without it, I am not allowed to be in the dorm. Now, you are probably thinking, “shouldn’t ‘they’ (the omniscient, mysterious ‘they’) have told me if I needed anything else? Of course not, silly, that would have been reasonable. I am eventually able to get a hold of Lisa, my Resident Director, and get her to talk to the desjornia. I feel really, really bad about constantly disturbing Lisa late at night (first it was the cancelled transfer, then the messed up classes, now this), but the severe lack of readily available information makes navigating life at MGU near impossible, even if you can speak the language. Anyways, Lisa is able to placate the desjornia temporarily and I am off tomorrow (Thursday) to figure out what in the heck I am supposed to do. Wish me luck!
Edit: Just noticed the newspapers and flat cardboard boxes around my little makeshift-internet access spot. Apparently, women are supposed to take one and sit on it if they are going to use the internet on the floor... Go figure.
Edit II: International Students Office decided not to open this week. Will try again next week. Here's hoping I don't get kicked out before then.
Now, for those of you that don’t know, Russians are very superstitious people. They are superstitious about everything. Drinking buttermilk will cure all illnesses; sitting by a draft will surely kill you. You can’t shake hands over a doorstep. You absolutely must look at a mirror if you forget something and have to go back to retrieve it (I learned this one quickly). And today, I learned a new one.
Internet access is very sketchy at MGU. You can go to an internet café across campus if you want internet, but it’s very expensive to buy it and although you can easily hook up to another café’s internet connection from it for free, they have guards all over the café that are constantly looking for any “suspicious” activity. I used to get my internet that way, but soon got tired of buying terrible $5 cappuccinos, the relatively long walk (just to get the internet, anyways), and the glares. You can also get internet set up in your room by a mysterious group called the “Hackers.” Apparently, these are students at MGU and for anywhere from $30-$80 a month (depending on how much they think they can get out of you), you can get wifi in your room. Finally, you can go to an internet café right next to the stolovia in the basement of the main building. Of course, you need to buy something to use the internet, but it just happens to be the most expensive café on campus. I go there often, but don’t like paying a $3 bucks for yet another cup of tea just because I forgot to send an email. So, most students sit on the floor on top of the café and can get access to the café’s internet that way. I now spend most my evenings sitting on the floor of the school using the internet. But, I digress…
There I am, as per usual, sitting on the cold floor by the door, shivering as the door blows another gust of icy-cold wind and snow into the building, and writing an email to my boss. A Russian girl comes up to me, asking me if I can help her get on the internet because her laptop is not connecting. I try to help, to no avail, and we sit there together on the floor, she trying to get on the internet, me trying desperately not to look too foreign. We are sitting there when this angry old man (yes, apparently there are also angry old men in Russia) comes up to us, yelling at us (well, it turned out he was yelling at me) to get off the cold floor. He spits, “Foreigner. American” like a curse. Of course, at that precise moment, I am reading a warning sent from the State Department to all Americans abroad about the need to take extra precaution abroad due to some recent violence in Gaza. I have never been identified as an Americanabroad. Heck, I’ve rarely been identified as an American in America. And the first time has to be when I am reading about how much other countries hate our guts…Lovely. Anyways, that’s not the point.
The old man continues to yell at us to get off the cold floor while the Russian girl yells back. I don’t know what is going on at the point and am just trying to mimic the Russian girl while simultaneously ignoring them both. Fortunately, by this point, my battery is getting low and I have the perfect excuse to leave. I casually put my laptop in my bag and, with one last haughty glare – who are you calling an American, you decrepit old man (apparently, that’s how you are supposed to handle these situations…sure) – I flee for my room. Once I get back, I rush to Susan, who surely has the answer for why random people like to yell at me. She does. And now I return to Russian superstitions. Apparently, sitting on cold floors makes women barren. As Susan tells me this, I promptly sit down on the cold floor of our hallway, hoping to increase my chances at barrenness – sorry mom, no grandchildren for you. So, yeah. There’s another Russian superstition for you. So, ladies, if you want children, off the floor you go. And those of you who don’t, come join me on the floor. It's really quite nice...
But, wait, I am not finished. That was just part one of my evening. The old man was not, in fact, the angry Desjornia I spoke of in the title. No, that would be too easy. As I sat here, innocently writing this blog at my desk, I hear a rap on the door. Thinking it is one of Susan’s friends, I leave the door to her and continue as before. Soon, I hear the angry voice of our resident desjornia (the Russian equivalent of a housemother, just angrier). Thinking that it was another kettle raid (for, truly, owning a kettle is an automatic ticket to the seventh level of hell around here), I pray a short prayer for my doomed suitemate and pretend not to notice them. But no, because the angry desjornia is point in my room while yelling in Russian. Resigning myself to death by bludgeoning by potatoes, I head out to meet my fate.
She then starts yelling at me about February the 1st, pointing at her clipboard all the while. “Today is the fourth,” she shrieks. “February the 1st has passed.” “Truly,” I think, “I thought the fourth came after the first, silly me.” Outloud, I just repeat my standby of “da.” Through all her chattering, I am able to discern that apparently, I am not supposed to be in the dorm past February 1st unless I can produce something mysteriously called a naropa (or something...). I have no idea what she is talking about so I return to my room and hand her my student ID and prospusk (the card that gets me into the dorm). “Het propuska,” she continues to screech. I turn to Susan in mind-numbing fear, only to see my wide-eyed faced mirrored in her own. Together, we are able to work out that I am supposed to have some other paperwork in order to extend my stay. Without it, I am not allowed to be in the dorm. Now, you are probably thinking, “shouldn’t ‘they’ (the omniscient, mysterious ‘they’) have told me if I needed anything else? Of course not, silly, that would have been reasonable. I am eventually able to get a hold of Lisa, my Resident Director, and get her to talk to the desjornia. I feel really, really bad about constantly disturbing Lisa late at night (first it was the cancelled transfer, then the messed up classes, now this), but the severe lack of readily available information makes navigating life at MGU near impossible, even if you can speak the language. Anyways, Lisa is able to placate the desjornia temporarily and I am off tomorrow (Thursday) to figure out what in the heck I am supposed to do. Wish me luck!
Edit: Just noticed the newspapers and flat cardboard boxes around my little makeshift-internet access spot. Apparently, women are supposed to take one and sit on it if they are going to use the internet on the floor... Go figure.
Edit II: International Students Office decided not to open this week. Will try again next week. Here's hoping I don't get kicked out before then.
I Am NOT a Novelty Item
(Written Wednesday)
And now a blog on Russian men. Now, having been here for just a little over two weeks, I cannot claim to be an expert on Russian men. In fact, I am sure that there are many really lovely men here…I just have not met any. I have had a few incidences with Russian men since I’ve been here, whether it be their fascination with my hair or the fact that I think I was mistaken for a “free-lance” operator. – You’re from America? You lie, wench. Now give me your number or I won’t serve you your tea. But tonight was particularly amusing. And I came up with the best rejection line in the history of rejection lines.
It was a dark and dreary night… Well, actually, it was quite an ordinary night. Dark, sure. Dreary, well, it’s almost always dreary. But a typical night nonetheless. My suitemate, Susan, and I headed down to the stolovia as per usual and were eating our regular fare of mashed potatoes, pastries, and tea (life is not good for a vegetarian in the cafeteria…) when some random dude approached us (apparently draw to us by our exotic, English-speaking ways). We started with the usual introductions – yes, yes, I speak English. Yes, I am from America. No, I am not lying. No, not all people from America look like Drew Barrymore. No, this is not a wig – you know, the usual. He then launches into his suave pick-up lines – “I speak English, too. Do you want to go to the cinema sometime?” Still young and naïve in the way of rejection, I continue to smile and agree – “I like movies, movies are good.” He then asks me for my number. Ah ha! An out! “Forgive me, kind sir, but I have just gotten a new phone and do not know my number. Unfortunately – and very unusually – I do not have my phone on me. Thus, I cannot give you my phone number. My humblest apologies, for it deeply breaks my heart.” I glance at Susan – wise, dear Susan who knows far more than I in the ways of Russian men – thinking I am saved. “Fear not, fair maiden,” Andrei (as I came to know him) exclaimed, “for I can give you mine.” – “But, sir, I do not have a utensil with which to write down said phone number.” He pauses, thinking deeply while I turn to Susan again, giving her a thumbs-up sign in my supposed victory.
I begin to pity Andrei, for he knew not how out-matched he was. “Do you come here often,” I ask, gesturing to the cafeteria. “Perhaps we could meet again.” “No,” he says, frowning in defeat. “I am an asperant (graduate student) and only come here on occasion.” Poor, poor Andrei. I pretend to be upset by this fact, until, mid-way through my pity face, her cries out: “Ah, yes! I know.” No, I think, please, don’t know. “I can come visit you in your room,” he proclaims, smirking in devilish satisfaction. And then, I deliver the BEST rejection line EVER: “I am sorry, but I don’t know where I live.” Check-and-mate. I pat myself on the back in a victory well-deserved. For, honestly, how can he overcome such an insurmountable fact? Meanwhile, Susan just shakes her head. Why you ask? Well, as I said before, Susan is much wiser than I. Let me explain… Andrei, unperturbed by my apparent lack of brains – or, perhaps, encouraged by it – decides to sit with us until we have finished our meal, at which point we would journey forth in a quest to find someone with a pencil. Well, crap. Of course, a pencil magically appears from my bag and I write down Andrei’s number, my head hung in despair. He saunters off in all his pasty-faced glory while I try not to cry. But, it is not a completely defeat. For I fear Andrei’s number might be lost, never to be seen again. What else would you expect from a girl that does not even know where she lives?
And thus concludes my dramatic evening. Stayed tuned for the next episode: When Potatoes Attack!
And now a blog on Russian men. Now, having been here for just a little over two weeks, I cannot claim to be an expert on Russian men. In fact, I am sure that there are many really lovely men here…I just have not met any. I have had a few incidences with Russian men since I’ve been here, whether it be their fascination with my hair or the fact that I think I was mistaken for a “free-lance” operator. – You’re from America? You lie, wench. Now give me your number or I won’t serve you your tea. But tonight was particularly amusing. And I came up with the best rejection line in the history of rejection lines.
It was a dark and dreary night… Well, actually, it was quite an ordinary night. Dark, sure. Dreary, well, it’s almost always dreary. But a typical night nonetheless. My suitemate, Susan, and I headed down to the stolovia as per usual and were eating our regular fare of mashed potatoes, pastries, and tea (life is not good for a vegetarian in the cafeteria…) when some random dude approached us (apparently draw to us by our exotic, English-speaking ways). We started with the usual introductions – yes, yes, I speak English. Yes, I am from America. No, I am not lying. No, not all people from America look like Drew Barrymore. No, this is not a wig – you know, the usual. He then launches into his suave pick-up lines – “I speak English, too. Do you want to go to the cinema sometime?” Still young and naïve in the way of rejection, I continue to smile and agree – “I like movies, movies are good.” He then asks me for my number. Ah ha! An out! “Forgive me, kind sir, but I have just gotten a new phone and do not know my number. Unfortunately – and very unusually – I do not have my phone on me. Thus, I cannot give you my phone number. My humblest apologies, for it deeply breaks my heart.” I glance at Susan – wise, dear Susan who knows far more than I in the ways of Russian men – thinking I am saved. “Fear not, fair maiden,” Andrei (as I came to know him) exclaimed, “for I can give you mine.” – “But, sir, I do not have a utensil with which to write down said phone number.” He pauses, thinking deeply while I turn to Susan again, giving her a thumbs-up sign in my supposed victory.
I begin to pity Andrei, for he knew not how out-matched he was. “Do you come here often,” I ask, gesturing to the cafeteria. “Perhaps we could meet again.” “No,” he says, frowning in defeat. “I am an asperant (graduate student) and only come here on occasion.” Poor, poor Andrei. I pretend to be upset by this fact, until, mid-way through my pity face, her cries out: “Ah, yes! I know.” No, I think, please, don’t know. “I can come visit you in your room,” he proclaims, smirking in devilish satisfaction. And then, I deliver the BEST rejection line EVER: “I am sorry, but I don’t know where I live.” Check-and-mate. I pat myself on the back in a victory well-deserved. For, honestly, how can he overcome such an insurmountable fact? Meanwhile, Susan just shakes her head. Why you ask? Well, as I said before, Susan is much wiser than I. Let me explain… Andrei, unperturbed by my apparent lack of brains – or, perhaps, encouraged by it – decides to sit with us until we have finished our meal, at which point we would journey forth in a quest to find someone with a pencil. Well, crap. Of course, a pencil magically appears from my bag and I write down Andrei’s number, my head hung in despair. He saunters off in all his pasty-faced glory while I try not to cry. But, it is not a completely defeat. For I fear Andrei’s number might be lost, never to be seen again. What else would you expect from a girl that does not even know where she lives?
And thus concludes my dramatic evening. Stayed tuned for the next episode: When Potatoes Attack!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Hannah's Weekend Adventures: Part Two
OK. I’m back with part two of my weekend escapades.
Well, I grabbed Susan again to join me on my journeys since some of her other plans fell through and she was trying to avoid homework. It was a chilly (ha! Chilly! Pfft!) -17 degrees Celsius when we headed out. The original plan was to start off at The Cathedral of Christ the Saviour ( I posted some pictures of it earlier), one of the most well known and beautiful cathedral’s in Moscow. In fact, it is probably one of the best known buildings in Moscow and a brilliant landmark. I pass it all the time, but never went in before. Well, I told myself, that was going to change. Unfortunately, when we got there, the church was shut down along with the rest of Tverskaya. It was crawling with militia. Apparently, when someone important goes to and from the Kremlin they shut down the street. (Oh, and Saturday was the Day of Dissenters, another reason why there have been some many militia around.) Well, I didn’t see Putin or Medvedev and I didn’t get to see the cathedral either. But no worries! Right down the street is Pushkin’s Museum of Fine Arts, arguably the best museum in Moscow.
After paying an outrageous entrance fee because I accidently said “da” when I was supposed to say “net,” off we went. We saw some of the artifacts from Schliemann’s Troy (which was just awesome after reading about it in grade school) that “mysteriously” disappeared from Germany in WWII only to later “mysteriously” end up in Moscow. There is one particular painting that I just adore and will definitely need to find a print of when I get home. It’s called Aurora and Cephelus(sp?).
We stayed at the museum for about 4 hours or so and then left to get something to eat. Overall, while impressive and definitely worth the trip, the museum pales in comparison to some of the others I’ve been to (say, the Louvre and the British Museum in London). Mostly, that is because many of the pieces are plaster casts of the originals in these museums (the very famous sculpture of Aphrodite for example). If you’ve seen the originals, skim these parts and make your way to the more hidden rooms that hold more impressive pieces of art you might otherwise miss (such as Madonna and Child Enthroned and some really exquisite French Impressionist paintings). It has never failed to make a top twenty list of things to see in Moscow and is definitely worth the trip. I’ll probably try to make another stop there later.
After we left, we grabbed some lunch at…McDonalds. Yes, it is true, I went to McDonalds in Russia. That means I have officially gone to McyDees more times in two weeks in Moscow than I have in at least a year in the states. But actually, it was quite cool. It was the first McDonalds opened in Russia and is absolutely massive. There were a couple hundred people there, easy. Apparently, it is one of the only places to get a good, cheap salad (with lettuce, not cabbage) in the city. Anyways…
We made our way up to Pushkin’s Square so I could recite some poetry in front of his statue (yes, yes, I know, I am a geek). Oh, by the way, Dr. Denner. The poems? One of the most useful things I’ve learned. Seriously. I think I made someone cry…
Anyway, we meandered our way down to the Museum of Modern History (just a hop, skip, and a jump from Scandinavia) and spent the rest of the day there. Beware non-Russian speakers: the only English displays are the introduction plaques at the entrance of every room. But some of the exhibits are interesting enough without it.
The first room opens with a large portrait of Medvedev, at which point I promptly burst into laughter and got glared at by the museum workers. It has pictures of Putin shaking hands (I think) hockey players and various other funny pieces you wouldn’t expect in a history museum. The next room starts back in, if I remember correctly, the 1400s hundred and the museum carries on from there. Don’t move through too quickly, some of the smaller pieces are even more interesting than the large centerpieces. We had to race through it pretty quickly (we only had 2 hours), but stopped to laugh at the display of MGU with the furniture and example of a “historic” propysk (student pass) that are identical to the ones we use now. My favorite piece of all is on display in the (as I call it) Gorbachev room. In the right corner is “The World According to Ronald Reagan.” Completely horrifying for anyone who has any appreciation for President Reagan (and even for those who might not), but completely ridiculous and hysterical at the same time. I’ll see if I can find a copy of it online…
After we left the museum, we were going to head up to Scans to say hi to everyone, but we were really early (the museum closes early on Sundays) and completely exhausted, so we made our way back to the university to rest up for Monday and the start of a new work week.
And that was my weekend. A complete blast and very educational. I’ll look back on it fondly in the coming weeks where I am stuck inside my room due to arctic temperatures.
Well, I grabbed Susan again to join me on my journeys since some of her other plans fell through and she was trying to avoid homework. It was a chilly (ha! Chilly! Pfft!) -17 degrees Celsius when we headed out. The original plan was to start off at The Cathedral of Christ the Saviour ( I posted some pictures of it earlier), one of the most well known and beautiful cathedral’s in Moscow. In fact, it is probably one of the best known buildings in Moscow and a brilliant landmark. I pass it all the time, but never went in before. Well, I told myself, that was going to change. Unfortunately, when we got there, the church was shut down along with the rest of Tverskaya. It was crawling with militia. Apparently, when someone important goes to and from the Kremlin they shut down the street. (Oh, and Saturday was the Day of Dissenters, another reason why there have been some many militia around.) Well, I didn’t see Putin or Medvedev and I didn’t get to see the cathedral either. But no worries! Right down the street is Pushkin’s Museum of Fine Arts, arguably the best museum in Moscow.
After paying an outrageous entrance fee because I accidently said “da” when I was supposed to say “net,” off we went. We saw some of the artifacts from Schliemann’s Troy (which was just awesome after reading about it in grade school) that “mysteriously” disappeared from Germany in WWII only to later “mysteriously” end up in Moscow. There is one particular painting that I just adore and will definitely need to find a print of when I get home. It’s called Aurora and Cephelus(sp?).
We stayed at the museum for about 4 hours or so and then left to get something to eat. Overall, while impressive and definitely worth the trip, the museum pales in comparison to some of the others I’ve been to (say, the Louvre and the British Museum in London). Mostly, that is because many of the pieces are plaster casts of the originals in these museums (the very famous sculpture of Aphrodite for example). If you’ve seen the originals, skim these parts and make your way to the more hidden rooms that hold more impressive pieces of art you might otherwise miss (such as Madonna and Child Enthroned and some really exquisite French Impressionist paintings). It has never failed to make a top twenty list of things to see in Moscow and is definitely worth the trip. I’ll probably try to make another stop there later.
After we left, we grabbed some lunch at…McDonalds. Yes, it is true, I went to McDonalds in Russia. That means I have officially gone to McyDees more times in two weeks in Moscow than I have in at least a year in the states. But actually, it was quite cool. It was the first McDonalds opened in Russia and is absolutely massive. There were a couple hundred people there, easy. Apparently, it is one of the only places to get a good, cheap salad (with lettuce, not cabbage) in the city. Anyways…
We made our way up to Pushkin’s Square so I could recite some poetry in front of his statue (yes, yes, I know, I am a geek). Oh, by the way, Dr. Denner. The poems? One of the most useful things I’ve learned. Seriously. I think I made someone cry…
Anyway, we meandered our way down to the Museum of Modern History (just a hop, skip, and a jump from Scandinavia) and spent the rest of the day there. Beware non-Russian speakers: the only English displays are the introduction plaques at the entrance of every room. But some of the exhibits are interesting enough without it.
The first room opens with a large portrait of Medvedev, at which point I promptly burst into laughter and got glared at by the museum workers. It has pictures of Putin shaking hands (I think) hockey players and various other funny pieces you wouldn’t expect in a history museum. The next room starts back in, if I remember correctly, the 1400s hundred and the museum carries on from there. Don’t move through too quickly, some of the smaller pieces are even more interesting than the large centerpieces. We had to race through it pretty quickly (we only had 2 hours), but stopped to laugh at the display of MGU with the furniture and example of a “historic” propysk (student pass) that are identical to the ones we use now. My favorite piece of all is on display in the (as I call it) Gorbachev room. In the right corner is “The World According to Ronald Reagan.” Completely horrifying for anyone who has any appreciation for President Reagan (and even for those who might not), but completely ridiculous and hysterical at the same time. I’ll see if I can find a copy of it online…
After we left the museum, we were going to head up to Scans to say hi to everyone, but we were really early (the museum closes early on Sundays) and completely exhausted, so we made our way back to the university to rest up for Monday and the start of a new work week.
And that was my weekend. A complete blast and very educational. I’ll look back on it fondly in the coming weeks where I am stuck inside my room due to arctic temperatures.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Hannah: Moscow's Intrepid Explorer
Just finished a long and adventure-filled weekend. I wasn’t planning on doing all that much, just some translations and maybe dinner with Joe and Natasha. But I woke up Saturday morning and saw, wait for it, the sun. Now, we have had one “sunny” day and one partially sun day since I’ve been here in Moscow. But yesterday was really sunny. As in Florida sunny. It was brilliant. I tried my best to get some work done, but by mid-afternoon, I had convinced myself that I could work once it gets seriously cold and decided to go out and play.
So, I grabbed my trusty Rough Guide to Moscow (thank you sooooo much, Sarah!), opened it to a random page, and off I went. I grabbed my suitemate, Susan, and together we trudged off to the metro. At the metro, we ran into one of her friends, Francesca, a hilarious, ultra-outgoing French girl. We took the metro up a couple miles to just outside the center and got out to explore. We decided to go to the church of St. Nicholas of the Weavers (yes, I said weavers) and, with my brilliant sense of direction (what, you don’t believe me?) found it with no problem at all. I guess it helped that it’s a massive cathedral that looks like a gingerbread house. Now, many of the buildings (churches in particular) are absolutely stunning. They all look positively edible with their bright colors and gilded frames (just look at St. Basil), but St. Nicholas is probably one of the most gorgeous cathedrals in Moscow. It was built as a parish church in the mid-seventeenth century with spiraling, white bell-towers and columns in varying shades of greens and reds. The inside is gilded and golden with massive paintings of saints, Mary, and Christ filling the halls. Scattered throughout the church are massive candelabras that hold candles people have lit for loved ones. You can buy the candles in the back of the parish from old, scarf-covered babooshkas for a couple of bucks while the priest stands outside drinking a cappuccino from Subway. It’s surreal to say the least.
From there, the three of us went looking for Tolstoy’s House. We got lost a couple of times because I was too afraid to stop and ask someone with all the militia around (more on that later). Finally, Francesca had her way and stopped about 10 people until she found one who knew where Tolstoy’s House was, singing loudly in English and talking about how she wanted to get stopped by the police so she could show them that all her papers were in order…and then laugh because she wouldn’t have to bribe them. Eventually, my heart attack ended and we found Tolstoy’s House. After some mishaps with our shoes (don’t ask), we were able to tour the house. I recently translated an article about Yasnaya Polyana (the main Tolstoy museum) and that, combined with listening to many of Dr. Denner’s Tolstoy-inspired rants, made me very excited to visit Tolstoy’s home. We stayed there for a few hours, all the while listening to me making very educated observations and mentioning fascinating tidbits…that I had read from my Rough Guide. It was really quite interesting and, at a cost of 30 rubles for students, I would recommend it for anyone who visits Moscow.
After we left Tolstoy’s House, we headed back to the university, only to get sidetracked by our need for sweets. We ended up in this overpriced supermarket that had, of all things, Cheerios. I was so ecstatic that I yelled and promptly jumped on Susan in an attempt to hug her. 107.50 rubles later, we actually made it back to the university. I was sidetracked in my quest to eat Cheerios by an invitation from Joe to join him and Natasha at this Indian restaurant called Maharaja.
…Oh…my…gosh…Needless to say, it was better than my cheerios. We started off with these mutton filled pastries and massive jumbo shrimp. Then it was on to two different types of Naan, rice, and two different types of sauces that I have no idea what they were (I couldn’t follow the handsigns…), but that were absolutely delicious. Finally, we finished with a lobster and little chocolate mints for dessert. Words fail, truly. Did I mention how great the food is in Moscow? No? Well, the food’s amazing. We had so much food we had to take quite a few doggie bags, a couple of which I am staring at right now as I try to resist the temptation… It was a really great evening. We talked about politics and Joe’s trip to London as I bugged Joe and Natasha about my plans for Sunday and tried to convince them to join me. All in all, it was a lovely evening and a great end to my day. Thanks, Joe!
And that was only day one of my weekend. Stay tuned for Sunday’s adventure! Loves to all!
So, I grabbed my trusty Rough Guide to Moscow (thank you sooooo much, Sarah!), opened it to a random page, and off I went. I grabbed my suitemate, Susan, and together we trudged off to the metro. At the metro, we ran into one of her friends, Francesca, a hilarious, ultra-outgoing French girl. We took the metro up a couple miles to just outside the center and got out to explore. We decided to go to the church of St. Nicholas of the Weavers (yes, I said weavers) and, with my brilliant sense of direction (what, you don’t believe me?) found it with no problem at all. I guess it helped that it’s a massive cathedral that looks like a gingerbread house. Now, many of the buildings (churches in particular) are absolutely stunning. They all look positively edible with their bright colors and gilded frames (just look at St. Basil), but St. Nicholas is probably one of the most gorgeous cathedrals in Moscow. It was built as a parish church in the mid-seventeenth century with spiraling, white bell-towers and columns in varying shades of greens and reds. The inside is gilded and golden with massive paintings of saints, Mary, and Christ filling the halls. Scattered throughout the church are massive candelabras that hold candles people have lit for loved ones. You can buy the candles in the back of the parish from old, scarf-covered babooshkas for a couple of bucks while the priest stands outside drinking a cappuccino from Subway. It’s surreal to say the least.
From there, the three of us went looking for Tolstoy’s House. We got lost a couple of times because I was too afraid to stop and ask someone with all the militia around (more on that later). Finally, Francesca had her way and stopped about 10 people until she found one who knew where Tolstoy’s House was, singing loudly in English and talking about how she wanted to get stopped by the police so she could show them that all her papers were in order…and then laugh because she wouldn’t have to bribe them. Eventually, my heart attack ended and we found Tolstoy’s House. After some mishaps with our shoes (don’t ask), we were able to tour the house. I recently translated an article about Yasnaya Polyana (the main Tolstoy museum) and that, combined with listening to many of Dr. Denner’s Tolstoy-inspired rants, made me very excited to visit Tolstoy’s home. We stayed there for a few hours, all the while listening to me making very educated observations and mentioning fascinating tidbits…that I had read from my Rough Guide. It was really quite interesting and, at a cost of 30 rubles for students, I would recommend it for anyone who visits Moscow.
After we left Tolstoy’s House, we headed back to the university, only to get sidetracked by our need for sweets. We ended up in this overpriced supermarket that had, of all things, Cheerios. I was so ecstatic that I yelled and promptly jumped on Susan in an attempt to hug her. 107.50 rubles later, we actually made it back to the university. I was sidetracked in my quest to eat Cheerios by an invitation from Joe to join him and Natasha at this Indian restaurant called Maharaja.
…Oh…my…gosh…Needless to say, it was better than my cheerios. We started off with these mutton filled pastries and massive jumbo shrimp. Then it was on to two different types of Naan, rice, and two different types of sauces that I have no idea what they were (I couldn’t follow the handsigns…), but that were absolutely delicious. Finally, we finished with a lobster and little chocolate mints for dessert. Words fail, truly. Did I mention how great the food is in Moscow? No? Well, the food’s amazing. We had so much food we had to take quite a few doggie bags, a couple of which I am staring at right now as I try to resist the temptation… It was a really great evening. We talked about politics and Joe’s trip to London as I bugged Joe and Natasha about my plans for Sunday and tried to convince them to join me. All in all, it was a lovely evening and a great end to my day. Thanks, Joe!
And that was only day one of my weekend. Stay tuned for Sunday’s adventure! Loves to all!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Sushi? In Moscow?
Hello again!
Well, I officially finished my second week here in Moscow. My classmates and I went out for sushi to celebrate (ok, so we weren’t celebrating my being here, we just wanted sushi…). Was absolutely delicious. I guess it doesn’t hurt that we were at our Japanese friends’ favorite Japanese restaurant… They basically ordered the entire menu. Seriously. Tea, two boat-loads of sushi, three types of tempura, shrimp spring rolls, tempura sushi, more sushi, sashimi, miso soup, sake (the best sake I’ve ever had, not that I have had lots), and, to top it all off, green tea ice cream with sweet rice balls and red soy beans. That may sound weird to you, but it was awesome. (sigh) So tasty. They treated us all as a “cultural exchange.” It was a blast. Oh yeah, and the name of the Japanese restaurant? - Japanese Restaurant. Appropriate, no?
I start individual classes on Monday. Do not quite know the schedule, or how it will work, or where I’m supposed to go…but I’ve come to expect a lack of information. I am looking forward to it, but will miss my current class. I will probably ask if I can sit in on it at least once a week. They were far too advanced for poor, little me, and it was hard to learn, but my listening comprehension has improved rapidly and it’s been a lot of fun. As Jason aptly put it, there gets a point where it stops being a challenge and starts becoming impossible to learn. I wonder if I could do a mixture of both…
That’s it for now. I still don’t have any bananas and I fear to go back to the store. Am doing some sightseeing this weekend and went out with Joe. More on that later.
Oh yeah, that reminds me. Apparently, it’s supposed to get really cold in February. Really cold. As in cars stop working cold. Now, when I came, I thought it was cold. You stick a Florida girl in negative degrees and she’s going to think it’s cold. Being a Florida girl, I have an ingrained hate of clothing (really, jeans and a t-shirt is about all you are going to get out of me) which proved to be stronger than my fear of the cold. I have barely forced myself into a hat and gloves, let alone scarves and layers. That, I presume, is going to change. It’s supposed to get -38 degrees Celsius. I don’t want to even figure out what that will be in Fahrenheit. Blech. Thus, I am going to try to get my sightseeing out of the way when I can. Wish me luck!
Loves to all!
Well, I officially finished my second week here in Moscow. My classmates and I went out for sushi to celebrate (ok, so we weren’t celebrating my being here, we just wanted sushi…). Was absolutely delicious. I guess it doesn’t hurt that we were at our Japanese friends’ favorite Japanese restaurant… They basically ordered the entire menu. Seriously. Tea, two boat-loads of sushi, three types of tempura, shrimp spring rolls, tempura sushi, more sushi, sashimi, miso soup, sake (the best sake I’ve ever had, not that I have had lots), and, to top it all off, green tea ice cream with sweet rice balls and red soy beans. That may sound weird to you, but it was awesome. (sigh) So tasty. They treated us all as a “cultural exchange.” It was a blast. Oh yeah, and the name of the Japanese restaurant? - Japanese Restaurant. Appropriate, no?
I start individual classes on Monday. Do not quite know the schedule, or how it will work, or where I’m supposed to go…but I’ve come to expect a lack of information. I am looking forward to it, but will miss my current class. I will probably ask if I can sit in on it at least once a week. They were far too advanced for poor, little me, and it was hard to learn, but my listening comprehension has improved rapidly and it’s been a lot of fun. As Jason aptly put it, there gets a point where it stops being a challenge and starts becoming impossible to learn. I wonder if I could do a mixture of both…
That’s it for now. I still don’t have any bananas and I fear to go back to the store. Am doing some sightseeing this weekend and went out with Joe. More on that later.
Oh yeah, that reminds me. Apparently, it’s supposed to get really cold in February. Really cold. As in cars stop working cold. Now, when I came, I thought it was cold. You stick a Florida girl in negative degrees and she’s going to think it’s cold. Being a Florida girl, I have an ingrained hate of clothing (really, jeans and a t-shirt is about all you are going to get out of me) which proved to be stronger than my fear of the cold. I have barely forced myself into a hat and gloves, let alone scarves and layers. That, I presume, is going to change. It’s supposed to get -38 degrees Celsius. I don’t want to even figure out what that will be in Fahrenheit. Blech. Thus, I am going to try to get my sightseeing out of the way when I can. Wish me luck!
Loves to all!
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