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Friday,
September 05, 2003
In which I pose as a headless Greek goddess, and understand O. Henry Yesterday, Tolio came home from wherever he was, and he brought a lot of fruit, so maybe he was in the countryside? Who knows. I suppose I could ask, but it's reached the point of awkwardness, so I probably won't. At first I though he was standoffish, but it turns out that he's pretty much deaf, so that explains why he doesn't talk much. Other than that, he's really spry for his age. You should see him sprint to get the telephone. Class was pretty dull both Thursday and today, so this afternoon I talked to coordinator Erin about getting moved up a level. She said she'd talk to my professors this weekend, and if they felt I should be bumped up, then I could. So we'll see. On our lunch hour, we discovered this sign:  I have to go here. But the real events of interest occurred after class today. Kate and I headed over to the Hermitage, where students get free admission. We could only stay a little over an hour, but what we did see was very cool. Entering, we ran into another classmate, Jenny, and the three of us made it through the Egyptian exhibit, the ancient Greek exhibit and most of the ancient Roman rooms.  The inner courtyard The Egyptian exhibit included a mummy, displayed with its multilayered sarcophagus and other burial paraphanalia. I'm torn. On the one hand, mummies are of historical interest, and this one was treated pretty respectfully. On the other hand, the whole idea of an Egyptian mummy was to put it someplace with all its stuff so it could be ready for the afterlife, so digging it up and sticking it in a museum seems pretty sacriligious. I know that leaving them in the City of the Dead and whatnot leaves them open to graverobbing, but something else could be done... But it was cool. There was quite a bit of other stuff, but the other item that really grabbed my interest was a writing set used in ancient Egyptian times - a box full of brushes with an inkwell and other little items. It's just so personal. I can't help but wonder about the person who used it. The Roman rooms contained the real entertainment, though. For example, here's a statue of Eros riding an vicious-looking fanged dolphin: 
And I'm not sure why this statue of Hermes cracked me up, but it did. I mean, I know it's the goofy little wings on his head, but I think the fact that someone gilded them makes it funnier. Maybe it's just me. 
We also posed in front of various statues, mimicing them. Yeah, I know, touristy. But it was amusing. This one in particular is great. I normally don't post pictures of myself or people I talk about in the blog to the blog, as I figure I'm already stalkable enough without giving psychos a photographic guide. But this can be an exception... 
We waited until everyone was out of the room to take it. Little did I know that after I pulled up my gigantic turtleneck, a huge horde of Spanish tourists entered the room. After Kate finished the photo, I uncovered my head to discover them laughing. One dude was actually clapping. I took a half-assed bow, and we hurried out of the room. I'm sure my face was as red as my shirt. The art and history was fascinating, but I think the true beauty of the Hermitage is the architecture itself. For example, in this room, the Greek pottery was cool, but the ceiling is awesome: 
And here's the archway entrance to the courtyard: 
This is my favorite picture from the trip. 
After we left the museum, Kate and I took the metro to meet Katia and Anton. The metro was the usual ordeal; this time, the traincar stopped underground under one of the canals, and we heard giant wooshing noises. I was convinced that we were going to be hit by a train; Kate thought it was a flood. Neither occurred, so I guess it was a ghost train. Or a ghost flood. The car started up again, and we escaped in one piece. Happy to be alive, we went to see a play. It was a variation on that O. Henry story where the circus guys kidnap the red-headed kid. It was laugh-out-loud funny, and I'm happy to say that I understood at least half the jokes. My Russian must be better than I thought. - declared by Liusia @ 1:20 PM Wednesday,
September 03, 2003 "For
you? Nothing," Sashka said.  The Circus. I just like the light effect in this picture.  Peter the Great's modest house  The Engineering Palace  The Hermitage  The Admirality  St. Issac's Cathedral 
Surprisingly, I managed to make it home after this without incident. This place is so surreal. - declared by Liusia @ 1:19 PM Tuesday,
September 02, 2003
In which I am adopted, and sent off to be taught Russian by Nikolai Cage Sunday at three, I packed my bags and said goodbye to the awesome brown hotel room, praying that my host family would also have such amenities as hot running water, electricity and a phone. With a certain degree of trepidation, I headed to the 3rd floor lounge, where we were supposed to meet our host families. I was greeted by a short, robust older lady with crazy grey hair and pretty eyes, who somehow managed to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek despite the fact that she's about a foot and a half shorter than me. Sonya. I think it's safe to describe her as a "character," although I kind of hate that use of the word. "Oh, he's such a character" is usually code for "get your crazy drunk uncle out of my house." But she really is. (A character, not a crazy drunk uncle.) We took a taxi to her apartment, and the entire way, she explained to me in detail the approximately 10 million modes of transportation that reach her neighborhood. For the record, you can take any combination of about 10 busses, 5 tramvai (a tramvai is kind of this electrical trolley thing) and two metro lines. She also rattled off the entire history of Aleksandr Nevskii Square as we drove past it, periodically consulting the cabbie on the finer points of history and transportation. He grunted in reply. Eventually, we reached the apartment building. Basically, it's a tenement. That sounds really negative, but it's not so. See, you know how in the US a lot of the time people put a lot of work into keeping their yard all pretty and their house all presentable and then the interior is just nasty chaos? It seems to be just the opposite in Russia. The apartment building is hella sketchy, down to the evil clanking lift, wild dogs and the complete lack of lighting, but as soon as you go through the series of giant security doors and step into the apartment, it's like entering another world. It's bright and cheery, with fresh paint and lovely wood and tile floors, full of puffy, brightly colored chairs and well-stocked bookshelves. When we walked in, I was accosted immediately by a big rangy black mutt. This was a surprise, as the letter had only mentioned a cat, but a pleasant one - I love dogs. They're not mysterious and capricious like cats. (I'm afraid of cats. I know it's a ridiculous phobia, but there it is. When one jumps out at me, I consistently scream. I don't like their creepy glowy eyes in the dark, either. I think this phobia is related to the network of scars on my left arm - when I was three or four, one of our stupid barn cats attacked me. So, in summary, I was happy to see the dog.) Sonya spent about a half hour relating the dog's life story. I'll summarize it: The dog was homeless, but Sonya's friend took it in last winter, taking pity on it because it was starving to death and its eye was infected and swollen up. It turned out to be a good house pet, so her friend kept it, but now her friend went to dacha for a fall vacation, so she's taking care of the dog. I think the dog's name is Dina, but Sonya pretty much calls it "Khooliganka" or "Durotchka" ("Hooligan-girl" or "Stupidetta," basically.) After a half hour of canine biography, she offhandedly mentioned that her husband (who is pretty frikkin' old...like 80) was gone somewhere for a few weeks. I guess she felt the dog was more interesting, athough I am curious as to where an elderly Russian man could disappear to alone for long periods of time. Other than a drinking binge. My room is really nice. It's huge. It's like three Ogg Hall dorm rooms put together, except cheerfully decorated and pleasant. Also, the water DOES run and the electricity DOES work, so that's three out of four. No telephone. I can live with that. 
About five minutes after coming in, Sonya asked me if I wanted a snack. I said, "sure." That was a mistake, my friends, because by "snack," she meant a giant bowl of soup, some kind of meat and vegetable salad, meat-filled blini, an entire tomato and three cups of tea. Oh, and tea cakes. I said I was full about five times, but it didn't work, the food just kept coming. It was good, it was just...oh, my God. Finally, when she offered to make me a sandwich, I hit on the strategy of yawning theatrically and saying I had jet lag, upon which she immediately insisted that I go take a nap straightaway because it's not good to be tired, you can get sick and if you get sick, you die. (I've since this learned that everything that is done in Russia is done to avoid getting sick, because if you get sick, you die. More on that later.) So I slept for a few hours. When I woke up, she was cooking again. This time it was some crazy concoction of zuchini and garlic. Dude, I don't know, it was actually pretty good, but just too weird. She asked me if I liked it, and I said yes, but I preferred the meat dishes from earlier. She expressed huge relief, telling me that all the silly Amerikankas just ate vegetables and while vegetables were good, meat was much better for you (if there's not enough meat on your bones, you can get sick and die), especially in the winter, and she was so relieved that I wasn't silly about food. She also told me that she never had any kids, so she likes having exchange students to fuss over. I'm exchange student number 7, and apparently, the first one not named "Jenny" or "Jessica." She was also relieved that I brought slippers, because without house slippers, you can catch a cold and get sick and...you know the drill. If I don't die of some kind of stomach impaction, this place is going to be great. Monday: I got up at 8 am, and Sonya had breakfast ready. Dear God, did she have breakfast ready. I got a giant omlet, sweet blini with jelly, a tomato, a cucumber, two cups of tea and an apple. She also insisted that I bring an apple with me, because I might get hungry. I don't think that's possible at this point. I pointed out that the apple wouldn't fit in my little purse. In response, she crawled into the hall closet (which looks to be about two inches deep, but somehow she completely disappeared into the thing. Magic?) There was a spectacular crackling noise, and I heard her muffled muttering in Russian (an incantation?). Finally she emerged with a big black purse (that she conjured?). "Vot," she said. I've resigned myself to the fact that nothing here makes sense. So, she took me to school. First we rode the tramvai, then we rode the metro, then we emerged from the metro's fabulously decorated (no, for real, Russia's metro stations are works of art) depths to see the giant church-thing that is right next to my university. She explained to me that it's the Kazansky Sobor (Kazan Cathedral) and it's really old. No further details were forthcoming. I will have to do research. I managed to convince her that not only could I make it to the apartment that evening on my own, but that Katia and I were going to do some shopping first and I promised, promised we wouldn't be mugged or get lost. Pretty things I saw on my way to school:  The Church on the Spilled Blood, built where Tsar Alexander II bit the big one  The old Singer sewing machine factory, now a bookstore School today consisted of a really easy written placement test, an oral interview, and a meeting with the other American students. The classrooms are beat-up and old, so I feel right at home (ahh, Van Hise Hall, how I miss thee) and the teachers are quite solicitous. One of the weird things about Russia is that everyone goes around looking pissed-off and forbidding in the streets and in shops (and in the bank. Stupid bank girl) but in personal interactions, are very warm and friendly. This is something that I can support. Why in the heck are Americans so friggin' smiley, anyway? It doesn't make the fast food burger taste any better. At least here I don't look like an unusually crabby bitch when I walk down the street scowling. The big weirdness is that one of the professors looks exactly like Nicholas Cage. It's seriously freakish. I don't know what his real name is, but from now on, he's Professor Nickolai. Katia, Kate, Sofia (another Amerikanka) and I went out for pizza between classes. Once again, we immediately were given the English menu, after exactly one word spoken (The server asked "how many" and Katia said, "four.") And then we got English-Speaking Sasha as our waiter. It was actually pretty cute - he seemed pleased to bust out his textbook English. But I'm still trying to figure out what kind of American Vibes we're giving off. At the market, I found and bought an awesome black leather sachel. But the search for a plug so I can recharge my laptop continues. I'm worried - I only have like 20 minutes of power left. Can a plug even be found? Maybe Sonya can conjure one out of her magical Narnia closet. - declared by Liusia @ 1:19 PM Monday,
September 01, 2003
In which I discover that Russia has a market economy Saturday pretty much consisted of wandering around the city, getting used to the area around the college. Oh, and Kate and I found a restaurant called the Kazan Cafe, and I got a decent steak for 100 rubles (about three dollars). Yay, Russia! Although getting the steak was a little embarassing. Coat check lady: Yedilicafe? Me (in Russian): I'm sorry, again please? Coat check lady: Yed...ili...cafe. (food or coffee?) Me (in Russian): Oh oh. Yed. Coat check lady (in Russian): Can I take your coats? (Kate gives the coat check lady her coat.) Me: No, thank you, I'm cold. (Coat check lady flags down a server) Coat check lady (to server): Give them the English menu. Heh. We also changed money, which was a barrel of monkeys. At the bank, I tried to get roubles out of my visa check card (which the sign said was possible). "2,500 roubles from my visa, please," I said. The bank girl stared at me, then said, "2,500?" disbelievingly. I did math in my head again, quickly, confirming that 2,500 was around $80. "Um, yes?" I replied. She glared at me, then fussed with the machine thing for about 10 minutes, grumbling to herself. I though I was being in some way stupid, but then finally she called over another teller, who explained to her how to work the machine, and bitched at her for being dumb. So I guess she was just pissy because she didn't know how to do it. But now I've discovered that the ATMs dispense both roubles and dollars, so I won't have to go back to the crabby, crabby bank. This morning, I was kind of tired, but not jetlagged, just my usual morning crabbiness. Kate and I met up with Katia and her boyfriend Anton, who is also visiting St. Petersburg, and took the metro to this absolutely awesome place called the Tea Spoon. Dude, you guys, it's like a McBlini! (For those of you without Polish grandmas, blini are like cute little pancakes folded up with some kind of meat or fruit filling.) It's a fast food blini place! I ordered an apple blinchiki with honey, and black tea. You get a little single serving fast food teapot and tea cup! And then the guy whips up a blini! I don't know what the hell my poli sci textbook was talking about, saying that Russia was having trouble embracing capitalism. Based on the McBlini and all the little shops set up all over the street and in the metro, and the guy hawking tourist boat rides at every canal, I think Russia is figuring things out. Anyway. We walked down Bolshoi Prospekt, a shopping area, and I discovered that Russian storekeepers have a disturbing affinity for animatronic window decorations. In almost every window there were all these hugely creepy dudes sporting suits or cooking or reading books. Aiee. And Katia says she found an anamatronic Pushkin up the street by the Bronze Horseman! So weird. I did find and purchase some very spiffy winter boots in black leather. They're skintight and come up to my knees. Rock. I didn't have room in my suitcase to bring mine from home, but these are better. Pirates of the Caribbean is on all the marquees. I think I need to go see it in Russian. It'll be, um, educational. A real vocabulary builder. 
At three, I returned to the hotel to meet my host family. But that's whole 'nother entry. - declared by Liusia @ 6:47 AM
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