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Saturday, August 30, 2003
In which I speak German, and am not involved in a fiery plane crash
We checked out of Hotel Whitey Bastard at 1 pm. We arrived at Dulles shortly thereafter. We were actually in the air around, oh, seven PM? It sucked. But such is travelling through the paranoid airports of today's world. I say, if a guy with a boxcutter can take over a plane, anyone with enough evil/willpower can. Stealing my tweezers is really NOT going to prevent another terrorist attack. The armored cockpit door is probably the best safety measure you can devise, although really, if you just want to take down a plane, you can make plastic explosives look like almost anything, so the security checks are kind of pointless. But the DoD didn't ask me.

On the plane, I finished the bad detective novel about airplane crashes. The guy next to me asked me what it was about, and I told him, and he looked scared. Heh.

We landed in the Frankfurt airport for our layover around 9 am their time. If Germany is anything like the airport, I want to live there. It was all shiny and stylish and clean and efficient and bizarre. The exit signs feature a frantically running stick figure. We saw a sign that, for some reason, said "High Technology Rhymes with Security" (no, it doesn't.) The smoking area was just these tables under a sign that said (I guess) "Smoking Area" in German, but you could barely smell the smoke, because it was sucked up with giant efficient fans. And best of all, the McDonalds was actually tasty. On Katia's advice, I ordered ein sixer menü mit cola. And despite my desperately lacking knowledge of German, they actually gave me the McNuggets! Quickly! And I managed to ask for barbeque sauce, too! And the nuggets were made with actual pieces of white meat! And the fries were hot, despite the fact that it must have been pre-prepared, because they had my order ready in like two seconds! Huzzah, Germany!






My flight from Frankfurt to St. Petersburg was kind of dumb. The food was creepy and sitting next to me was this Italian woman who WOULD NOT SIT DOWN, no many how many times the stewardess asked in various languages, and this little Russian kid who kept pouring juice on my shoes. Finally, the plane landed, and I went through passport control, which was kind of weird, but nearly as bad as I'd been imagining.

Me (in Russian): Hello.
Surly passport girl (also in Russian): You actually speak Russian?
Me: I guess.
Surly passport girl: That's nice. Go away.

I collected my baggage, which actually arrived, and in one piece. Huzzah, German airline Lufthansa! Seriously, I'm moving to Germany.

We took a hired bus to the hotel/dormitory place, which was just cool. I mean, it's pretty much ugly and run-down, but it still rocks. Kate and I are sharing a room, and our room has this kind of mad frenetic style. Everything is in shades of brown with clashing patterns, except the light, which is white with blue cats. And our bathroom is practically modern - the water only ran orange for like two seconds! Although the toilet runs like a river. And you have to get your keys from this forbidding dark-haired lady, and give her back the keys whenever you leave the hotel. Which means her job is actually sort of pointless, because you could just take the keys with you, and then when you finally checked out, give them to the clerk, but I bet she's been there since Soviet times and they're afraid to fire her.





Kate and I had a very successful first night in Russia. We managed to buy bottled water and pepsi, get directions to a cafe, go to said cafe and purchase food (although they only seemed to have cake, so we had a dinner that consisted of this neon red cake, but it was really tasty, actually) and then find an internet cafe and buy 'net time. It costs 25 rubles for 20 minutes of 'net time - that's less than a dollar. I think an hour is about two dollars. The 'net cafe is really nice and modern. (But I need to buy a new cord so my laptop will work here, as the electrical system is different. Once I get a cord, I'll upload pictures from my camera to my laptop and go back through and illustrate the blog.) And then we found our way home. All by ourselves! Perhaps I will survive Russia after all.

Our hotel is right next to this giant, looming cathedral thing. I'm going to have to find out what it is.

Big looming cathedral:

- declared by Liusia @ 8:49 AM


Friday, August 29, 2003
Yeah, guess where I am right now?
Russia!

And I'm alive and my time at the internet cafe is running out (aiee! 30 seconds!) hence I will post a complete update (with illustrations! Featuring adventures in the Frankfurt airport!) sometime tomorrow or the next day, whenever I manage to escape the study abroad group.

Huzzah, Russia!

Huzzah, surviving my scary trans-atlantic flight!

Huzzah!
- declared by Liusia @ 2:35 PM


Thursday, August 28, 2003
In which I am embarassingly bourgeois, and take lots of out-of-focus pictures
Yes, yes it is. So here are the journal entries you missed while I was away.

Tuesday, August 27 - Wednesday, August 28
Katia's dad dropped me off at the Embassy Suites near the capitol, and invited me back to stay with them when I return from Russia despite the fact that at their house, I exploded a bottle of body wash and shattered a water glass (not in the same incident). My first thought upon entering the hotel was "oh, whoa." My second thought was, "I hope I don't have to pay for this." They have a dude to bring in the luggage, and the place is all full of plants and stupid indoor waterfalls and made-to-order continental breakfast. Basically, a haven of burgeois comfort.



I was not, in fact, comfortable. I don't like being waited on. I always feel like some kind of Marie Antoinette The Man oppressor, exploiting the world's proletariat. And it's even worse when all the kowtowing people are of color (as they were in the Embassy Suites) because then I'm not only The Man, but also Whitey. Oh, oh. And maybe the worst part is, I'm not the Marie Antoinette The Man whitey opressor...I'm faking. Lord knows I grew up in a friggin' trailer park. Stupid doublewide. Sometimes our water didn't even work, y'all. I should be carrying the bags and bussing the tables and saying "yessir."

I did enjoy my made-to-order omlet, though.

Orientation is boring and stupid. I guess it's all important information, but I swear, all our meetings go like this:

Guy in charge: Does anyone have any more questions?
Some girl: So, like, it's cold in Russia, right?
Guy: Yes. You should bring a hat.
Some guy: I heard that the police are crooked.
Guy: Yes. They are scary.
Katia (sotto voce): My head hurts.
Me: Yes.

That was an exaggeration. But yeah. It was a little redundant. And, um, elementary. There was some valuable information about laws and contact information, though. I just think we could have covered it in about a half-hour instead of two days. And oh, my God, WHO DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT HOW TO DRESS FOR SNOW? Dude, even if you're from Hawaii, you've watched TV, right? Read a book? Perhaps, at some point in your life, said to yourself, "hmm, if wearing lighter clothes cools me off, heaver clothes will make me warm?" You wear a hat, a coat, mittens and some waterproof boots! If your coat has an open neck or it's really cold, you thow a scarf into the mix! Jesus! Galoshes are NOT secret Candian military technology!

Wednesday night, Katia, my new also-going-to-Russia friend Kate, and I snuck off and did some sightseeing around DC. The DC metro looks like Disneyland, all unnaturally clean and well-ordered. The capitol looks almost exactly like Madison's capitol building (they did that on purpose, though, right?) and I disovered that my new digital camera can, indeed, take pictures at night.

We also saw the Washinton Monument in all its phallic glory, and the White House, although my camera apparently despises Bush as much as I do, because it wouldn't take a good photo.


The Bush presidency, as interpreted by my digital camera


And because the world is silly, we also walked past a 1 1/2 story-tall statue of dancing farmers, and a highly-decorated building full of lush potted plants labelled ""The Department of Thrift Supervision." Heh.




- declared by Liusia @ 8:10 AM


Tuesday, August 26, 2003
I am leaving for Russia in two days and I cannot form a cohesive entry because my brain has stopped working, and I would apologize, but I'm not sorry
I'm endlessly amused by the google hits that land people on this website. A recent favorite: personification poems on air-conditioner

Also, I'd say that at least 20% of my site hits come from people looking for some variation on "how to make a homemade silencer," which is kind of worrying. Do you think the FBI is going to investigate me?

Speaking of the FBI, here's a disaster:

I had to pack enough shampoo and soap and lotion to last the entire semester, because I am allergic to everything and I am afraid that if I buy soap in Russia I will break out in horrible black plague-lookin' rashes. I bet you can guess what happened on the airplane ride to DC. Oh, yes. The Herbal Essences body wash exploded. Luckily the liquids had been quarantined in their own waterproof suitcase compartment for just such an eventuality. But don't you think that if I'd managed to think that far ahead, I'd have also thought to stick them in plastic bags. So now Katia's trunk and basement smell like an exclusive fragrant blend with Mallow Flower, Aloe Vera and Vitamin E.

Last night, after I de-gelled my suitcase, we watched The Pirate Movie. Basically, it is modern day butchering of The Pirates of Penzance. Fantastically, entertainingly horrible. You could say it was like watching a train wreck, if the train was full of fireworks and the train was in California which during the train wreck broke off of the US and fell into the ocean and then the apocalypse happened. The movie contains such gems of dialogue as:

Mabel: You poor thing. Pirates! You mean like walking the plank? Buried treasure? Hack, slash, off with his head, and the Jolly Richard, and everything?
Frederic: Roger.
Mabel: Oh, Roger I love it.
Frederic: No, Frederic without a "k."
Mabel: Mabel, also without a "k." God, we have so much in common.

and

Mabel: You'll be hung!
The Pirate King: Oh I am, I am, and very well thank you.

It is possibly the worst movie I've ever seen, and I've seen Krull. so that's saying something.

Okay, enough blathering.

Orientation starts today at 4. Huzzah, role-playing exercises. (Note: that was also a sarcastic huzzah.)
- declared by Liusia @ 1:20 PM


Monday, August 25, 2003
A difficult day ends in chicken
I have made a great discovery for the ages!

Airport delays are bad!

This morning, Jessie and John drove me to the Madison airport and I checked in and had my shoes x-rayed and suchlike and then I promptly boarded the plane and everything was going well and then the plane sat in the runway for forty-five minutes. Because I am super-cool and always go with the flow, I pulled the book Jessica gave me to read on the plane out of my carry-on and commenced reading.

Thanks a LOT, Jessica, you bitch. It's always nice to give someone a book about a forensic anthropologist investigating GORY AIRPLANE CRASH DEATHS in the GREEN MOUNTAINS while they are flying to WASHINGTON DC.

I read it anyway, because I am some kind of masochist.

Finally, the plane took off, and proceeded to fly into exxxtreme turbulence, which was really fantastic, because then I was not only reading a book about airplane crashes, I was getting airsick. I began to welcome the apparent imminent flaming death.

But we landed. I would say "huzzah!" except that we landed approximately 10 minutes before my connecting flight was due to take off. And, huzzah (that was a sarcastic "huzzah"), my gate was all the way across O'Hare. Do you know what's big? O'Hare. I mean, the place contains an apatasaurus fossil skeleton! And, like, a million gates!

I don't run. I espouse a generally anti-running stance, unless I am being chased by wild tigers. I would run from a tiger. I would not, however, run from a serial killer. I think I could take a serial killer. I'm pretty brutal. I would kick and bite and scratch. Then, even if the serial killer got me, there'd be lots of good DNA evidence that could lead to a conviction.

I think that paragraph got a little out of hand. Let's try again.

I don't run. I espouse a generally anti-running stance. Especially when I am carrying my heavy-ass carpetbag, my laptop, and wearing high heels. But I ran, oh, like the wind. I'm sure that was a sight. And I made it to my plane, too. Mind you, I almost had a coronary, and my toes are probably permanently damaged, but I made it to my plane, which made it to DC, where I was picked up at Dulles by Katia (hi, Katia!). We drove to her parent's place, in a swanky suburb where everything is made of brick and one building is generally indistinguishable from another. They have lots of books, which I am in favor of. Her house is very pleasant and her parents are very pleasant and now I'm going to go eat chicken, so that's pleasant too. So, all in all, it's good that the plane didn't crash.

Here's something for you all to look forward to: I got a digital camera. So now my blog is going to turn into an illustrated travellog. So look forward to that, because God knows I'm just a fantastic photographer. Lots of blurry pictures of my thumb are sure to make this blog even more riveting than it already is. Hard to imagine, I know, but there it is.

That was also sarcasm.

I bet you knew that.

I'm going to go eat chicken now.

See, I'm making good use of my new digital camera

- declared by Liusia @ 6:24 PM

 

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